
NEVy 
PLAYS 



/ SHAMROCK AND ROSE. Four Acts. Ten characters. 
IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP. Three Acts, Ten characters. 
OUT OF HIS SPHERE. Three Acts. Eight characters. 
ANITA'S TRIAL. Three Acts. For All Girls. ^ 

A RICE PUDDING. Two Acts. Five characters. 
AN AUTOGRAPH LETTER. Three Acts. Ten characters. 
THE WAY TO HIS POCKET. One Act. Five characters. 
THE BAT AND THE BALL. One Act, Seven character* 



Price, 250. 
Price, 15c. 
Price, 15c. 
Price, 25c. 
Price, 25c. 
Price, 250. 
Price, 15c. 
Vrice, 15c 



plays for /Amateur Sf^eatrieals. 

BV GEORGE TUt. BKKER, 

Author of ^^ Amateur Dramas," "The Mhnic Stage" *'The Social Stage" "The Drmoing" 
Room Stage" "Handy Dramas" "T/te Exhibition Dratnas" "^ Baker's Dozen" etc. 

Titles in this Type are New Plays. 

Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays. 



DRAMAS. 

Jn Four Ads, 
Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female 
char. , ... 25 

/;/ Three Acts. 

our Folks. 6 male, <; female char. . 15 

The Flower of the Family. 5 
male, 3 female char. ' 15 

En I isTED FOR THE War. ^ male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

Tin' lAtin' Jirowti Juy. 5 male, 3 
female char , . . . , 15 

/« Two A cts. 
Above the Cloudh. 7 male, 3 female 

char 15 

One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 15 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 

char 15 

Bread ON the Waters. 5 njale.s female 

char 15 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char •15 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 
The L,ast Lioaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 15 

In One A ct. 
oTAND BY THE Flag. 5 male char. . . 15 
Tlte Tempter. 3 male, i female char. 15 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disv»ppeaTance. 4 

male, 3 female char 15 

Paddle Your Own C'aooe. 7 male 

3 female char. . , 15 

A Tirop too Much. 4 male, i female 

char 15 

A. Littlf Hlore Cid'r. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 

female char 15 

x'Tevkr ^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 15 
'eking the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 

char. 15 

The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 15 
The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char 15 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 

4 male, 3 female char 15 

We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char 15 

Male Characters Only. 

A Close Shave. 6 char. 15 

A Public Benefactor. 6 char. ... 15 

A Sea of Troubles. 8 char 15 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 

A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 15 

Coals OF Fire. 6 char. ...... 15 

Freedom OF THE V'ress. S char. ... 15 

Shall Oor Mother-* \'ot«-? 1 1 char. 15 

Gentlemen OF THK Jury. 12 char. . . 15 

Humors OF THE Strike. 8 char. . . . 1 s 

My Uncle THE Captain. 6 char. . . . 15 

Nf.w Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

I'hk Hypochondriac. 3 char 15 

. he Man with the Uemijohn. 4 

char 'IS 

The Runaways. 4 char 15 

The Thief OF Time. 6 char 15 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . • • 15 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love OF A Bonnet. 5 char 15 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 15 

No Cure No Pay. 7 char 15 

The Champion OF Hek Sex. 8 char. . 15 

The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 15 

The Grecian Benu. 7 char 15 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 15 

Using the Weed. 7 char 15 

ALLEGORIES. 

A rrangedfor Music and Tableaux. 

Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 

char 15 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 

char 15 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- 
male char. 15 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char 15 

The War OF the Roses. 8 female char. 15 

The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. . 15 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, i male, i female 15 

Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 

I female char 25 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 15 

Restored. 3 male, i female char. . 15 

Santa Claus' Frolics 15 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave. 
AND THE Fair Imogene. 3 male, i 

female char 25 

The Merry Christmas of the Old 

Woman who Lived in a Shoe. ... 15 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 

char 15 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 15 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 15 

The Visions of Freedom, ii female 

char 15 



AFTER TAPS 



^ ©rama in W\}xu ^cts 

• 



-^ 



COMPLETED BY 

RACHEL E. T^,\KER U 

FROM NOTES AND UNFINISHED MAM:EC1<IPT OF THE LATE 

GEORGE M. BAKER 



2:77^; \/ 



V 



BOSTON 



^i^^iM;:=^/Vx^a.A^fi^^ 



^ 

1891 



CH aractp:rs. 

GORDON GRAHAM Colonel in Union Army 

ROGER CARRUTH. 

PIXKERTON POTTS Major in Union Army 

BIJAH BRIGHT The Standard-bearer 

RANDOLPH NEWCOMB . . . . A Sojiihern gentleman 

PETE A small contraband 

PATRICK KILROY Private 

RUTir GRAHAM Colonel Graham's wife 

DOROTHY «RAHAM Colonel Graham's sister 

POLLY PRIMROSE. 

SOLDIERS AND GUARD in Ac^ I!. 



Act I.— "Shot in the back." 

Act II.— " After Taps." 

Scene i.— Noon. Scene 2. — Evening. 

Act III. — " Home Again." 
Costumes et th$ pei-iod. 




Copyright, 1S91, nv Rachel E. Baker. 



P5 \'7Z^ 



AFTER TAPS. 



ACT I. 

SHOT IN THE BACK. 

Scene. — HtDidsome apart moit in the house of Colonel 
Graham i)L Baltlmoiie. Door opening into hall, centre. 
Wide window, R. C. Mantel with fireplace L. in fiat. 
Glass over inantel. Door r. in fiat. Table L. c. Lamp 
on table, books. Chair beside table l. Arm-chair near 
?nantel. Door l. in fiat. Curtain raised to tune of 
'• Yankee Doodle,^'' by drum and fife at Jieadofa cojuhany 
of Union troops, seen passing window. Polly Prim- 
rose, discovered with duster in hani, alternately peeping 
out of window and dancing about stage, singing. 

Polly {sings). 

" Father and I went down to camp, 

Along with Captain Gooding ; 
And there we saw the girls and boys, 

As thick as hasty pudding. 
Yankee Doodle keep it up, 

Yankee Doodle Dandy, 
Mind the music and the steps. 

And with the girls be handy." 

{Speaks.) 

Another thousand of Maine's boys marching down into 
Dixie. Bless their dear hearts ! If this keeps on much 
longer, there will be none left for the hopeful Down-East girls 
and full-blown spinsters, whose natural expectations are 
warm corners in the hearts of these brave heroes. What a 
queer lot of men. Some have left their sweethearts behind 
them, I suppose. Heigho! There's no one to leave me 
behind. Wlien I think of the good times Down East, it just 
makes my mouth water. I'd give a week's wages to catch a 
glimpse of some familiar face. {Cojning down.) I wish I 

3 



4 AFTER TAPS. 

were a man. Nothino: Vd like better than to join those ranks 
and march witii them; but here I must stay and dust chairs 
(dusts spitefully) and tables. I know the military tic-tacs — 
no, that isn't right. 1 mean tactics. {Executes Dianual 
with duster.') Present — arms — no — leathers. Order — 
feathers. Indeed, I'd like to, for my next winter's bonnet, 
if there were only some one to pay the bill. Right shoulder, 
feathers. {Carries duster to left, in place of right.) Ha, 
ha, if any one could see me now, ihey would take me for 
a condensed, awkward squad. {Music outside. Polly 
?narches up and down with duster at right shoulder.) I 
can feel the military thrill down to the tips of my toes. 
Think of the excitement when the bugle calls, and you hear 
the cry, " Charge feathers — charge ! "' {Charges with duster 
at door c, into the face ofY^ijMi Biiight, 2uho appears with 
flag; he is bespattered with mud.) 

BijAH. Phew! pooh — ah, clioh ! {Sneezes.) What are 
you trying to do, smother a fellow } Giving us the great 
Othello act, with me as Desdemona ! {Looks at Polly.) 
Why, no! — ves, it is, Polly — Polly Primrose. 

Polly. Bijah Bright ! Well, 1 declare ! 

BijAH {taking both of Polly"s hands). Why, the sight 
of you is good for a pair of diseased optics. 

Polly. But why are you here in this house.'' 

Bijah. It must have been the magnetism of your bright 
eyes, Polly. When I was marching along, I felt so drawn 
towards this- house, sez I to myself, sez I, here, Bijah, is the 
place to find rest for your weary bones, and rations for an 
aching void. And, behold, I find you, my long-lost treasure. 
{Tries to embrace Polly, wJio steps aside.) Ah, Polly 
Primrose, the way you've played tag with that vital organ of 
my being, the heart that beats for you alone, would frighten 
any other man, but I've jest made up my mind, — 

" A sweetheart's a sweetheart, 
As all the world knows. 
And Polly's my Polly, 
Wherever she goes." 

Polly. Don't be so sure of that, Mr. Bright. Don't 
flatter yourself tliat you are the only man that calls me, " My 
Polly." 

Bijah. Let me but find him. He'll wish he hadn't been 
born. 

Polly {laughing). Same Bijah Bright. Don't be wor- 
ried {coguettishly), for I think you wiU find me the same 
Polly. 

Bijah {taking both her hands). Wal, now, that's some- 



AFTER TAPS. 5 

thing like. When the temperature of your society is at zero, 
it makes my very blood congeal. 

Polly. Where did you come from ? 

BijAH. Right from Oldtown, Polly, chuck full of patriot- 
ism and peace. 

Polly. Seems to me those two words don't jine well, 
Bijah. Patriotism and fight make the best partnership. 

BijAH. The fighting is all wrong, Polly. Do you see 
that flag ? You bet, I'm proud of it. Tve made a big wager 
that I can carry that flag from Oldtown to New Orleans. 

Polly. How do you get along ? 

BijAH. Thus tar, swunmingly ; from Oldtown to Balti- 
more has been a triumphant mirch, but just here Pve 
struck something. 

Polly. From the looks of that eye, and the mud on that 
coat, I should say something had struck you. Bij.ih, you're 
a crank. Your peace and flag won't stir anything down this 
way. If 3^ouare not both suspended from a tree before you 
reach New Orleans, you may think yourself lucky. If your 
wits were as sharp and dazzling as your name, you would 
shoulder your gun and join that regiment. 

Bijah. Oh,' Polly, youVe way off. No such work for me. 
I am the Standard' Bearer. (Takes Jlag.) Think of the 
glory that will shine like a h do about" my name. When 
posterity shall gently drop a tear for memory's sake, and in 
the language of tlie poet thus spe ik of one you knew so well : 

There was a youth namsd Bijah Bright, 
Who gloriously did lead the fight. 
No sword or musket carried he 
To shad life's blood on land or sea; 
His honest arm the flag did wave, 
And urging on the soldiers brave. 
The causa was won : a noble fight. 
And thanks are due to Bijah Bright. 

Polly {beaming with admiration). I declare, Bijah, 
jest as much of a poet as ever. Do you remember some of 
your poetry at the exhibition of the Oldtown School ? 

Bijah. Indeed I do. When old Deacon Sasafrass 
visited the school he always wanted something original ; so, 
one day, thought I'd give it to him. Let me think — yes, I 
have it. {Recites with aw kiuard gestures.) 

Our yaller hen has broke her leg, 
Oh, never more she'll lay an egg. 
The brindle cov/ has gone plumb dry, 
And sister Sue has spoiled a pie. 
Thus earth is full of sin and sorrow, 
We're here to-day and gone to-morrow. 

Ha, ha, Polly ! Those were good times in Oldtown. Do 
you remember them ? 



6 AFTER TAPS. 

Polly. Do I ? Don't I ? 

BijAH. When I thought you were the purtiest girl in 
town ; when the sight of you in your best bib and tucker 
made me feel as though there were an ice-cream factory in 
full operation on one side, and a hot air furnace on the 
other. 

Polly. Oh, Bijah ! 

BijAH. But times are changed. The girls are changed, 
but you, Polly, are still a purty — 

Polly. Oh, Bijah ! 

BijAH. Old girl. 

Polly {//i<iignn?it/y). Bijah ! 

BijAH. Now, don't get excited, Polly ; I'm by no means 
a blooming flower in the garden of youth myself. I've lived 
long enough to find out that money is the root of all evil ; 
that an old rat is more capable from experience of keeping 
out of traps than a young one ; that life may be worth living, 
but it isn't worth much of anything else ; that an old sweet- 
heart is at least a blessed memory ; and so, when this cruel 
war is over, I'm going to lay my heart at the feet of — Miss 
PoUv Primrose. 

Polly. Oh, Bijah ! 

Bijah. In the meantime, as I am rather hungry, a bite 
of something from the cu[)board wouldn't go bad. 

Polly. Then come with me. 

BijAiL Thanks, Polly ; but before I accept of your 
hospitality, who is the proprietor of this establishment.'' 

Polly." Colonel Gordon Graham. 

Bijah. What .'' You don't mean it. {Aside.) Here's 
luck. {Aloud.) That grand old fellow } 

Polly. Do you know him ? 

Bijah. Know him? Wal, I guess. Shot in the back. 
A dastardly trick. 

Polly {/loldino out Itand). Bijah, give me your hand ; 
you are my friend for life. The colonel is one o'i the bravest 
and best of men. The shot that brought him down could 
not keep him there : for, beckoning to two of his men, he 
was carried in their arms to the head of his regiment ; and, 
waving his sword, led them on, driving the enemy in all 
directions. Mr. Randolph Newcomb, one of the fine gentle- 
men of the city, professes great friendship for the colonel ; 
but, I've heard it whispered about, that he tries to make him 
out a coward. Oh, I just hate him. 

Bijah. He does, does he .'* I say, Polly, do they ever 
speak of Roger Carruth ? 

Polly. Law, no ; poor Miss Dorothy. She's just as 



AFTER TAPS. / 

bright as ever : but mind you, way down deep, she just 
grieves and grieves. I know, for IVe seen her, when she 
thought slie was alone. You see, Mr. Newcomb is down on 
Mr. ^Ro<i-er, and he is so intimate with the colonel, who 
believes^that he is something of a saint, that he has made 
the colonel down on him too. That just breaks poor Mrs. 
Grahanvs heart, for Mr. Ro,:,^er is her brother, you know. I 
should think Mr. Roger might send Miss Dorothy some 
word, at least, and not leave her to fret her heart out. Oh, 
these men, they make me tired. Haven't a thought for any 
one besides themselves. 

BijAH. Hush, Polly, don't say that. Haven't I marched 
from Oldtown just to catch a glimpse of your sweet face.? 

Polly. Indeed' you haven't. You've done all that for 
glory, or, for all I know, some other girl. 

BijAH. Oh, come, Polly, don't be hard on a fellow. You 
don't know how much stock you hold in that tender heart of 
mine. Its value is getting higher; better hold on to it, or 
some dav, when the war is over, and it is above /^zr, you will 
wish that you hadn't sold out. Besides, Polly, don't be down 
on Roger Carruth ; he's "pure gold." He'll come to the 
front one of these days, and Mr. Randolph Newcomb won't 
stand the fire. t^.. , ^ 

Polly. What do you know about Mr. Newcomb, Bijah.? 

BijAH. Never you mind. Sufficient unto the day, is the 
gossip thereof And O Polly, while that heart of mine is 
beating a regular nightly tattoo for you on one side, the other 
organ "of my being, the stomach, in the most unromantic 
manner is clamoring for mid-day rations. 

(PiNKERTON Potts ^;/^ Dorothy heard outside laughing.) 

Polly. Poor thing, so active a poetical brain should not 
be allowed to starve. ' Come with me. {Exeunt, R., Polly 
and "^i] All.) 

(Major Pinkerton Potts and Dorothy e?iter, both in 
riding costiune, and laughing heartily at Potts's appearance, 
who )'s brushing dirt from his clothes.) 

Dor. 'Well done, Pinkv, that last leap was too much 
for you. That's your punishment for insisting upon pourmg 
into' my tired ears, a whole battalion of pretty speeches. 
Pride must have a fall. If your shots in battle do not 
find a more responsive target, your record will not be an 
enviable one. 

Potts. How can I help it ? Such bright eyes and glow- 
ing cheeks cannot but provoke such thoughts to utterance. 
I say. Miss Dorothy, you do like a fellow, just a little, 
cion"t you .f* 



8 .VFTEK TAPS. 

Dor. Like you ? Indeed yes. You are one of the nicest 
men I know. ^ There is a lari^e corner of my heart quite 
devoted to you. 

Potts. Well, to be liked is something. But, if you only 
knew, how much I tliought of you by day, and dreamed of 
you by night. 

Dor. Ha, ha I to think of Pinky Potis assuming the 
sentimental role. Dear me. I never dreamed of such a 
thing. Why, you are too old a friend. \\ hat should I do, if 
I were to fall in love with you ? It would spoil all the fun, and 
now, you are my devoted slave. 

Potts. What's the matter with my being in love and 
playing the devoted too ? 

Dor. Never. Now, Pinky, you are just the dearest fel- 
low in the world, and I am awfully fond of you ; you are no 
end jolly. So come {offers luoiii, ivJiich Potts takes), let's 
be friends forever, and keep sentiment out of the question. 
{Seriously.) And you know, Pinky, I can never forget 
Roger Carruth. 

Potts. No, Miss Dorothy, and I would not have you. 
Roger and I are too old friends. I would not mar his happi- 
ness or yours, for all the world. {Kisses Dorothy's Jiand.) 

Dor. Well said, my noble major. Some day a fascinating 
little woman will cross your path who won't say " nay " to 
your devotion. I hope it will be sotne one that I shall know, 
Pinky, for I shall love her v.ith my whole heart. When the 
war is over and Roger comes back — he will come back, 
won't he, Pinky ? 

Potts. Indeed he will. Never doubt his 103'alty, and 
some day you will have your reward. Roger is under a 
heavy cloud, but penetrated by the warmth of your love it 
will in time disperse. Then. Miss Dorothy, you will say 
" good-by '' to tears, and revel in the happiness and sunshine 
about you. 

Dor. Pinky, you were wrongly named. You are true blue 
every time. {Goes to luindow.) Pinky, come here. Do 
you see that man walking with the Colonel and Mrs. Graham 'i 
That is Mr. Randolph Newcomb — and — I don't like him. 

Potts {looking o7'er her shoulder). What, that beastly 
cad ? don't blame you. 

{Enter Ruth Graham.) 

Ruth. Good-morning, major. Ah, Doroth}-, you here ? 
What a glorious iTiorning for a ride. I see you have taken 
advantage of it. But major, your appearance indicates a 
mishap — nothing serious, I hope .'* 



AFTER TAPS. 9 

Dor. {lookUig at Potts and laughing). He made a 
thrilling leap, but missed the mark. O Ruth, I wish you 
could have seen his lordship ignominiously turning a somer- 
sault in the mire. Don't be surprised, if the next news 
that you hear is that Major Pinkerton Potts, formerly ofificer 
in the Union Army, had reached the zenith of success, and 
was now dazzling all Europe by his acrobatic feats. Pinky, 
don't forget your old friends when fortune smiles upon you, 
:ind {jnock courtesy) send us a box. {All langh.) 

{Enter Coloxel and Newcomb ; Colonel leaniiig upon 
Newcomb's arm^ very weak. Leans against door.) 

Col. Yes, Newcomb, I must rejoin my regiment to-day. 
No more holidays for me. The wound is healing. 
Back again with my men, breathing the atmosphere of 
patriotism, strength will return to me. Ah, Newcomb, a 
glorious cause. I wish you were on our side. 

{Enters room. Potts salutes.) 

Col. Glad to see you, major ; our time is up. old fellow. 
Ah, been for a ride wi th madcap Dorothy ? {Putting his hand 
on Dorothy's shoulder.) I tell you, major, if every man in 
the regiment was fired with the enthusiasm which this brave- 
hearted girl possesses, we should have no deserters. {Turns 
to Newcomb.) Major, allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. 
Randolph Newcomb. (Potts boius frigidly and does not see 
l>iY.\\QO\\\^s hand which he has extended. Do^xothy bows 
slightly.) 

Col. {seated 1)1 arni-chairj KvTii beside him). Newcomb, 
since you are not on our side, I cannot say " Come and join 
us '' in the fight. No doubt, you are doing your duty equally 
well, by remaining here. 

Newcomb. There is other work besides fighting. Colonel, 
and mine lies close at hand. 

Col. True. And that reminds me of mine. Come, 
major, escort me to my room. We will talk over the plans 
for our return. Dorothy, dear, I must lean upon you, too. 
Ruth, I leave Mr. Newcomb to your kind care. Good-morn- 
ing, Newcomb. 

(Exeunt Col., Major, and Dor., l.) 

Ruth {coming forward, about to seat herself at table; 
coldly). Won't' you be seated, Mr. Newcomb.'' 

New. {sits in chair near mantel). The colonel insists 
upon a return ; do you think this wise, Mrs. Graham ? 

Ruth. His heart is so full of patriotism, every hour's 
delay irritates him. Since he cannot be persuaded, I think 



lO AFTER TAPS. 

it wiser to let him go. Yet, I fear for his safety. That shot 
in the back was mysterious. Some foe, calHng himself friend, 
lurks near him ; why, I cannot imagine. He is everything 
that is true and noble ; and whoever fired that shot had some 
motive, which one attempt upon the colonel's life will not 
satisty. 

Ni:\v, My dear Mrs. Graham, you are morbid. A colo- 
nel's life is at hazard as well as that of a private. Why 
could not the shot from an enemy's rifle have done the work .^ 

Ruth. . Impossible I the enemy were in front. Only a 
coward would do so contemptible a deed. 

New. True, there are some without honor, Mrs. Graham. 
Your brother, Roger Carruth, for instance. 

Ruth {ris/;/j(). How dare you, Mr. Newcomb, in my own 
home, speak so slightingly of my brother.-^ Why have you 
turned against him .'* When he was first accused of the crime, 
you acted as his friend. Since his escape, you never lose an 
opportunity to taunt me with his downfall. 

New. Because the evidence against him has strengthened. 

Ruth. Mr. Newcomb, you call yourself friend. I do not 
believe you. Roger is as innocent of that crime as I am, 
and you know it. Not content with attempting to overturn 
my faitli in my brother, you have spared no time or trouble 
to turn the colonel against him. He believes in your friend- 
ship so thoroughly, he never thinks to doubt your word. 

Ni:w. That is as it should be, Mrs. Graham. And, I 
hope, some day, the colonel's wife will favor me with her con- 
fidence. 

Ruth. Never. Your very presence is hateful to me, and 
could I have my wish you would never again cross this 
threshold. The time will come when Roger's innocence will 
be proved, and woe to those who are his accusers. 
{Elite}- Polly, r.) 

Polly. If you please. Mrs. Graham, the colonel is ask- 
ing for you. 

Ruth. Very well, Polly. (Polly ^.vzV.) I fear the walk 
has been too much for the colonel. Will you excuse me ? 

New. Certainly. (Ruth exits, l.; New, laiii^hs.) It will 
be a long time before that day, my dear Mrs. Graham. The 
plot cannot so easily be unravelled. Suspects some foe of the 
colonel's, does she? She shall have abetter cause. The 
shot will be more telling next time. {Goes to window.') 
{Enter Roger, disguised as Gibbs.) 

GiBBS. Is the colonel at home ? (New. turns, sees Gibbs, 
and ((ives a surprised whistle j GiBBS looks at New., and 
v.'histles.) 



AFTER TAPS. II 

New. {coming down). What business brings you here ? 

GiBBS {coining dow7i). To inquire after the colonel's 
health. 

Nkw. I can give you full information. He has quite re- 
covered, and is to rejoin his rei:;iment to-day. What next.'^ 

GiBBS. To ascertain if he has ever found a clew to the 
perpetrator of the foul outrage. 

New. If not, to turn traitor. 

{Enter Dor. in house goxun, aiid sees New. and Gibbs. She 
is about to j-etire^ but stops upon hearing Gibbs's speech.) 

Gibbs. Yes, for I can give him the name of the man who 
]:)lanned his murder. (DoR. crosses to stage C. and hides be- 
hind portiere.) 

New. And what do you expect to get for this startling 
piece of news ? 

Gibbs. Well," say fifty dollars. 

New. I will give you a hundred to say nothing about it, 
on one condition, that you yourself try your hand. That 
man Dowling was worse than nothing. It was a bad shot; 
we need better marksmen in our armies. 

Gibbs. You are bound to murder him .^ 

New. Murder? no indeed. " All's fair in love and war." 
Are we not enemies.'* Is he not the invader of the sacred 
soil tliat was my birthplace ? Has he not won the heart of 
the woman I once loved .'* That affection is now dead, and 
hatred has risen from tlie ashes. She scorned me once, and 
I shall not rest until her happiness is wrecked. 

Gibbs. Then that explains your treachery towards her 
brother, Roi^er Carruth. (Dor leans forward ; listening.) 

New. What do you know of Roger Carruth ? The world 
looks upon him as a criminal ; lie is beyond recall and as good 
as dead. 

Gibbs {looking at him steadily). You are sure ? 

New. Yes, I am confident of that. 

Gibbs. And the family ; do they not suspect ? 

New. Suspect? not much ; they are too simple for that. 
You are still in the colonel's regiment ? 

Gibbs. Yes. What are your orders ? 

New. Are you at any time placed as sentinel near tlie 
colonel's quarters ? 

Gibbs. Yes, any night may find me there. 

New. Well, I must take my chances. To inquire after 
the colonel's health is sufficient excuse for my appearance in 
camp at any time. The colonel has given me a standing 
invitation. 



12 AFTER TAPS. 

GiBBS. Which you will have no hesitation in accepting, I 
see. 

New. What time are you placed there on guard ? 

GiBBS. Just before taps. 

Ni:w. Good, just the thing. After taps will be the time. 
Lights out, everything quiet. Can I depend upon you, Gibbs ? 

GiBBS. You liave my word, sir. 

Nkvv. Ha, lui!' word.'* do you think that yours is worth 
anything ? 

Gibbs. Sometime I hope it will be. 

Nf:w. Remember, you owe much to me. Should you 
turn traitor, your reckoning will be a .sorry one. 

Gii5BS. I shall not forget all that you have done for me. 
Some day I will pay it back with interest. (DoK. hides; 
GiBBS exit c.) 

Ni:w. 1 wonder if I can trust him ? He seems docile 
enough ; but sometimes I fancy there's a. look in his eye — 
pshaw ! what nonsense. Newcomb, my boy, a clever trick, 
a bold scheme ; but you will win it, never fear. 

{Exit New., c.) 

Doi^ {friohtened, appears from behind portiere). What 
do I hear .-* A scheme to take the colonel's life, and by his 
best friend too. {Goes to luindow.) There he goes, oh, the 
hvpocrite. Now I know why I hate him so. With all his 
fine manners, I have not been deceived. Ugh! 1 hate even 
to shake hands with him. Oh dear, if I were only a man, 
that I might be near the colonel. Whom shall I tell.'* Who 
will help me ? Ruth must not know, she has enough to bear. 
{Goes to mantel and takes Roger's //tY7/;r/ ninsic.) They 
call me gay, Roger, frivolous and heartless. Perhaps I am, I lut 
if they could only look dow^n deep into my heart, they would 
find the love for you, burning a strong and steadfast flame. 
{Places picttn-e on mantel and stands looking at it.) O, 
Roger, why did you leave me ? 'We all believed in your 
innocence and could have helped you bear the burden, which 
now alone must be so heavy. Oh, if you were only here 
to help me now. {Bows head on hands and stands weeping ; 
music ceases. Enter BijAH and Polly.) 

BijAH. That was the best piece of pie, Polly. If I could 
only have my knapsack as a receptacle for such samples of 
your cooking, 1 wouldn't need drum and fife to spur me on. 

Polly {sees Dor.). Husli, Bijah, Miss Dorothy is here. 

Dor. {raises head ; comes forward). A visitor, Polly ? 

Polly. Yes ma'am. A friend from Oldtown ; and only 
think, Miss Dorothy, he knows your Mr. Roger. 



AFTER TAPS. 13 

Dor. Knows my Roger? {Goes to Bijah.) Oli, tell 
me of him ; where is he? 

Bijah. That I cannot tell you {takes letter from pocket^, 
but here is a letter, which he bade me give you should I ever 
come to Baltimore. 

(Dor. takes letter; breaks seal. Bijah and Polly retire to 
luindow; music.) 

Y)o\i. {reads). My darll\g Dorothy. — That you still 
have faith in me I have no doubt. Your heart is too pure for 
anything else. I have enlisted in the army, and only as private 
will serve my country with heart and soul. When the war is 
over, I will return to you ; my innocence established, and the 
foe, not only my country's but my own, defeated and trodden 
under foot. Bijah Bright, the bearer of this letter, is a true 
and loyal friend. He is worthy of your greatest respect, for he 
stood by me in mv darkest hours. My love to dear sister 
Ruth. Until we' meet again, yours in life or in death. 

Roger. 

Dor. {kisses letter). Mr. Bright, I am more than grateful 
to you for bringing this letter ; it fills my heart with renewed 
hope. Believe m^e {gives hand to Bijah), your loyalty to 
Roger makes us warm and steadfast friends. 

Bijah. I shall see him again, Miss Dorothy, and, w^hen 
I do, I shall say to him, that the stars in heaven never shone 
brighter than the love in your eyes when you spoke his 
name. 

DoK. You are a true knight. Will you take an answer 
to this letter? 

Bijah. Indeed, 1 will. 

Dor. Thank you so much. 

B;jAii. No thanks, .Miss Dorothy, the pleasure's mine. 
(DokvOthy exit R.) 

Tolly. Isn't she just sweet, Bijah ? 

Bijah. You've hit it this time ; were it not for the daz- 
zling- 1 rio-htness of the orbs of fascinating Miss Folly Prim- 
rose^ the palpitation of my heart would be greatly increased ; 
as it is — 

There's only one maid, and Polly s her name, 
Of my love, my heart, she surely makes game; 
But some time or other, so sorry she'll be, 
She'll sigh for her Bijah, the bear of Old T. 

Polly. Indeed, I won't. 

There's plenty of fish in the sea, Mr. B., 

Who'd bile at my hook with the greatest of glee : 

You think, as you've writ, sir, my heart is your own, 

That over your absence I sigh and I moan, 

Indeed, I do not, sir; pray hear me aright, ^ . .^ 

I wouldn't give that {snaps fingers), sir, to be Mrs. Bright. 



14 AFTER TAPS. 

BijAH. Ha, ha, Polly, ibat wee brain of yours isn't an 
idle one. It won't do for us to separate, but make a stock 
company and spring; our poetic effusions upon the public 
together. {Enter Roger, luithout disguise.) 

RoGFCK. Is Miss Dorothy at home ? 

BijAii. Wliy — Mr. Roger here .? . 

Polly. Land of living ! Where did you come from } 

Roger. Was marching by ; could not resist the tempta- 
tion of a stolen glance at Dorothy. 

BijAH. Have just given her your letter, and she is now 
writing one in answer. 

Roger. But I must see her. 

BijAH. Then I won't wait for that answer. And, as I 
know the sensations of a fluttering heart. Til step out and 
let you flutter alone. 

Roger. All right, Bijah. Where are you going ? 

BijAH. Back to camp. Tve had a ta.ste of Polly's pies. 
That's joy enough for one day. 

Roger {pving hi))i papers). Take these to the captain, 
and I will soon follow. 

BijAH. All right. {Takes flag.) Polly, should I on the 
cold earth lie, remember this — \ loved your pie. 

{Exit BijAH.) 

Polly. Pity sakes alive ! Mr. Roger, how shall I break 
the news to Miss Dorothy? 

Roger. Your wits were always lively, Polly. I shall 
leave it to you. 

Polly. Dear me, she may come at any moment. Here, 
hide behind this. (RoGiiR^-w,*' beJiind portiere, c.) 

Polly. Oh, dear, every idea in my brain is playing tag 
with the other. Such a horrid sensation I feel, as if some 
one had proposed and 1 had said " No," when I meant 
" Yes.'' {Raises eyes.) Shade of my departed grandsire, aid 
me. {Draws herself np, makes to door R., exits calling., 
" Miss Dorothy, Miss Dorothy.'''') 

Roger {drawing portiere aside). Oh, how good to be 
in my own home again. They say that stolen goods are 
always the sweetest; one look and kiss from Dorothy will 
indeed be worth the stealing — hark, they are coming. 
{Hides. Enter DoROTHY ajid Polly.) 

Dor. What is the matter, Polly? P^rom'the vigorous 
manner in which you called my name, I should think the 
house was on fxre, or besieged by burglars. 
^ ^ Polly {excited). Hush, Mis's Dorothv. it ain't a fire — 
it's worse — it's burglars. 



AFTER TAPS. 15 

Dor. {screams ). Oh ! 

Polly. Don't, Miss Dorothy ; some one entered the 
house while you were in your room, and has stolen some- 
thing. 

Dor. Stolen something ! What ? 

Polly. Something that belongs to you. It is very 
precious. 

Dor. {looks at hand). My rings are all here. 

Polly. Oh, — no — not that, something worse ; {lo7i({ 
whisper) it's your heart. 

Dor. Polly, tell me instantly, what do you mean ? 

Polly {excited), I mean — I mean — no, I don't mean, 
yes — I do — 

Dor. Polly, if you can talk sensibly, pray do, and not as 
if your brain were congested. 

Polly. Indeed, Miss Dorothy, my brain is all right — 
but look {mysteriously) behind that portiere. 

Dor. What is it ? You make my very blood run cold. 

Polly. Behind that portiere {goes to it, draws it aside, 
disclosing Roger), is — is — 

Dor. ' Roger ! {Rushes i/ito his arms.) 

Roger. My own dear Dorothy. 

Dor. Oh, Polly, you frightened me so. 

Polly. Thank heaven, that's over — it's worse than hav- 
ing a tooth pulled. 

Roger. You did nobly, Polly. Will you tell Mrs. Gra- 
ham that I am here ? 

Polly. Indeed I will. {Exit Polly, l.) 

Dor. Oil. Roger, I have wanted you so much. 

Roger. What do you think of me ? my lonely hours so 
far away from you all. 

Dor. But where have 3'ou been ? Tell me, Roger. 

Roger. Hush, Ruth is coming. I will tell you both 
together. 

(Enter Ruth.) 

Ruth. Roger, my dear brother. {Embrace^ Why this 
long silence 1 this uniform 1 What does it all mean ? 

("Ruth and Dorothy both seated. Roger's hand on 
Ruth's shoulder, the other holding Dorothy's hand.) 

Roger. It means, dear sister,' that my heart responded 
to my country's call, and I could not stay away. 

Ruth. But why did you not confide in us 1 we all be- 
lieved in your innocence, 

Roger. All ? 

Ruth {Jool?s down). Yes, all ; for at heart the colonel 



1 6 AFTER TAPS. 

believes in your honor. He must, but his friend Newcomb 
has so woven his influence about him, that the poison has 
done its work. Oh, Roger, that man, how I despise and 
fear him, 

Roger. And well you may. Never mind, Ruth, some 
day my name will stand without a blemish, and the colonel 
will be made to forget his doubts. Now, I shall serve my 
country with my heart and soul, believing and trusting that 
justice in good time will right my wrongs. 

Colonel {outsnh'). Yes, major, a capital plan. 

Ruth. The colonel I he must not see you. I fear he 
may forget that you are my brother. 

Roger. Never mind. Ruth, his words cannot hurt me. 

{Enfer CoL(jnel /c-anino upon arm o/Viyms, ivho carries 
the Colon el\s cloak a mi hat.) 

Col. Ruth, dear, I am quite myself again. The major's 
active brain has helped to clear my cobwebbcd intellect, and 
our united forces have conceived a most brilliant scheme. 
{Tarns; sees Roger; sterniy.) Roger Carruth. what are 
you doing here ? 

Roger. Calling upon my sister and my fiancee. 

Col. And do you think, sir, that I, tlieir only protector, 
will allow one whose name is sullied to hold an interview 
with them 1 

Ruth {goes to Colonel). Gordon, you forget that you 
are speaking to my brother. 

Dor. {goes to Roger). And please remember, Gordon, 
that this man I love and honor above all others. 

Col. Stop, I say. In my own house, I will speak my 
mind. Roger Carruth, leave this house. All here bear hon- 
ored names. We do not associate with dishonest men. 

Ruth {sobbing). Gordon, how can you be so cruel "i 

Roger. Colonel Graham, you forget to whom you are 
speaking. We once called ourselves brothers ; that tie 
remains. We shall both fight for our country's honor. 
Mine will be a double duty. My good name shall stand 
again, and you, who spurn me now, shall live to crave my 
pardon. Farewell, Dorothy. {Exit Roger, c.) 

Ruth. Gordon, you have broken my heart. 

Dor. You call yourself a soldier. If I were your country, 
I would disown you. 

Col. Hush, Ruth, don't condemn me. Dorothy, I have 
done wliat seemed my duty. 

Dor. There are .some duties it is wiser to overlook. 
(Colonel atid Ruth .stand talking together; Dorothy 
drags Potts down front,') 



AFTER TAPS. \*J 

Dor. Pinky, what do you think of all this ? 

Potts. A downright dirty piece of business, but don't 
blame the colonel. Newcomb is at the bottom of this. 

Dor. Newcomb ? Oh, yes . Pinky, what do you think ? 
I overheard him talking to one of the coloneFs men, and he's 
plotting {whispers') murder. 

Potts. What ! Murder ? Who is the victim ? 

Dor. The colonel. That shot in the back was a first 
attempt, and he is going to try it again. 

Potts. Not by a large majority. 

Dor. You must help him in some way. 

Potts. I'll do my best ; and if Newcomb isn't " laid out " 
before we're done with him, my name isn't Pinkerton Potts. 

Dor. Find Roger ; he will' help you. He's too loyal to 
harbor the Colonels words when his hfe is in danger. 

{Sound of fife and dni?n. Troops pass ivindow, as at 
opening. Polly enters, goes to window.) 

Col. Come, Ruth, my cloak and hat. 

Ruth {/iclps /rim with cloak). Must you leave me? 
{Music.) 

Col. {taking Ruth in his arms). Ruth, dearest, you 
are a soldier's 'wife, remember. Forgive my harsh words to 
Ro^er, but by the fireside or on the battle-field, our honor 
must be upheld. When the bugle calls me to active service, 
with heart and soul to lead my men in battle, it calls you to 
be brave and to conquer all fears, giving inspiration to those 
who march to meet the foe, and waiting with patient love 
and hope our safe return. {Kisses Ruth : embraces Doro- 
thy.) Good-by, Dorothy. Come, major. (£";i7/ Colonel.) 
Ruth. Major, watch over him and bring him back to me. 
Potts. I will do mv best, Mrs. Graham. 
Dor. Good-by, major ; don't forget the sacred trust im- 
posed upon you. ' Care for them both. {Exit Major.) 
(Ruth falls into Dorothy's arms,) 
Dor. Ruth, dear, be brave. Roger will be near Gordon, 
I know. He has suffered much, but he will forget his own 
wronc-3. We have faith in him and know him to be steadfast 
and t?ue. Some time the world will know it. Keep hope 
alive in your heart, and believe with me, that Roger will 
some day make that shot in the back rebound, and the 
traitor will meet his just deserts. 

{Tableau. Ruth in Dorothy's arms. Polly at win- 
dow waving hatidker chief.) 

CURTAIN. 



• 



1 8 AFTER TAPS. 



ACT II. 



AFTER TAPS. 



Scene I. — Euca7)ipi)ient of Union troops at Harrisajt'^s 
Landitio one week later ; time, noon. Vieiu of James 
River at back. Colonel Graham's tent, l. c, opening 
facing audience. T?'ees R. and L. ; fatten log R. Catnp- 
stool outside tent ; inside, table, stools, couch. In one 
corner, banjo ; old army coat, hanging. Sentinel pacing 
at back. Soldiers grouped about ; wooden table c, at 
which are seated soldiers playing cards. Kilroy on log 
R.; BijAH V>\\\i\\\^ standing back of table. Soldiers laugh 
as curtain is raised. 

BijAH, Wal, that's a true story, and don't you forget it. 

KiLROV. Faith, it's an injy rubber memory yees have 
any way. An' divil a bit does it trouble yees to stretch it. 
Be jabers ! it makes me dhry to Hsten to yees. {Drinks 
from canteoi, then looks at watch.) Shure, it's toime I was 
on watch. {Exits r.) 

{Enter Colonel Graham and Major Potts. Soldiers 
rise, salute, and disperse.') 

BijAH {dow/i front). Ha, ha! I've given them chaff 
enough for one day. It will give them something to talk 
about and keep them out of mischief. {Exit R. ; Colonel 
Graham seats himself on stool outside tent.) 

Col. Ah, major, already new life fills my veins ; to know 
that I am with my men again. That seven days' fight is 
over at last; poor fellows! how many have answered thei^- 
last call, and lie with white faces upturned to the sky ; only 
the heavy dew for a winding-sheet ; while the wounded are 
waiting for transports to take them back to Washington. 

Potts. Those were hard days, colonel ; but we 77iust 
succeed in the end. When we have gained the victory, some 
of those brave fellows, wliose souls are as white as their 
faces, will, if they can look down upon their country, rejoice 
that they gave their lives for so glorious a cause. 



AFTER TAPS. I9 

(Guard approaches iviih sentinel.') 

Sent. Halt ! who comes there ? 

Guard. Friend. 

Sent. Advance, friend, and give the countersign. 

{Gmk^'D gives the countersign in whisper; Kilroy takes 
sentineVs place. The relieved sentinel falls behi7id guard 
and inarches off.) 

Major. Any orders, colonel ? 

Col. No, major, go amongst the men if you will, and 
speak words of encouragement ; I shall be my old self to- 
morrow. (Potts salutes, and exit past Kilrov, who 
salutes. Colonel enters tent and writes at table. Kilroy, 
pacing to aiid fro, suddenly starts and lowers musket.) 

KiL. Halt! who comes there .'' (^No answer; paces again.) 
Plague take it ! only the wind. (Pete appears, crawling 
on hands and knees.) 

KiL. Halt! who comes there? Advance, and give the 
countersign. 

Pete {rising afid coming forward). 'Deed I can't sign 
nuffin, massa. 

KiL. {dragging him forward). Well, by the powers, if 
it ain't a shmall nagur. 

Pete. 'Deed, massa, I done mean no harm ; I's scared 
blue, I is. 

KiL. Blue, is it ? faith it must be navy blue thin, wid a 
coat of tan outshide it. Phat are yees doing here } 

Pete. Ps only come to find my mammy. 

KiL. Poind yees mammy. It's a foine place yees come 
to Ink for her; p'raps yees thinks she's a bowld sojer by in 
petticoats, ha, ha ! 

Pete. Please, massa, I tought maybe, when she runned 
away, der Union men would be good to her, and let her stay 
wid dem. 

KiL. Bliss his heart, a good bit of faith he has thin, and 
Patrick Kilroy is the last man, though he has an Irish heart, 
that would lit any harm come to this shmall spal-peen. 
Corporal of the guard, post four. 

{Enter Corporal.) 

KiL. {with hand on Pete's shoulder). Look here, sir. 
See what I've found crossing the line. Shure it's a bit of 
ould Africa. 

Corp. All right, I'll show him to the colonel. (Kilroy 
resumes march ; Corporal leads Pete to Colonel's tent 
and salutes.) 



20 AFTER TAPS. 



Col. Well, what is it 



Corp. A contraband discovered crossing the lines. 
Col. Very well, leave him to me. 

(Corporal salutes and exit. ^ 

Col. {comiiio out of tc/it). My fine fellow, what is your 
name? 

Pete. Dey neber done gib me one, massa, only Pete. 

Col. How old are you .'' 

Pete {scratching head). Dunno, specs Pse purty old ; 
Pse had heaps of fun. 

Col. Where did you come from ? 

Vktk {points across rive?-). Ober dere. Powerful^ hard 
time Pse had too. massa. Pse runned away. 

Col. Why did you come here ? 

Pete. Ole massa, he sold my brudder, an' I jest feared 
he'd make me gwine too. An" I knowed der Union men was 
heaps good to de poor niggers, an' I tough t p'raps yer 
might tell me whar my mammy is. 

Col. No, Pete, my ])oy, I don't know where your mammy 
is. {P7its hand oji Vkik's shoulder.) What are you going 
to do? 

Pete {scratching head). Dunno! {Thinks a moment, 
then looks brightly into Colonel's /</a'.) 'Specs I should 
jes lub to stay wid you. 

Col. {seating himself on stool, outside tent). Stay with 
me ? What could you do ? 

Pete. I can brack yer boots, massa. An' oh, massa 
Colonel, I do so lub a horse ! Let me take care ob yours. 
I can handle 'em, massa, if dey be eber so debblesome. 
Please jes try me ; an' 1 do eberyting yer axes me, sho's yer 
born. 

Col. I havnH a horse, Pete ; but you look like a pretty 
good boy. I think I can trust you. Yes, I will give you a 
trial. 

Pete. Yer really means it ? (Colonel nods assent.) 
Ki-yi ! ( Turns somersaults.) 

Col. Ha, ha ! 1*11 make you my bodyguard. 

Vetk {perplexed). I ain't got no uniform, massa; 'specs 
I needs a sword for dat. 

Col. That is a ragged coat you have on for this time of 
year. {Goes into tent and brings out old army coat li'ith 
gold stripes and buttons). Here, put this on. " You won't 
grow to it this year {laughs), but it is better than nothing. 

Pete {delighted; changes coat and walks aboiit, admir- 
ing hifnself). I jes wish my ole mammy see me now, she'd 
be proud, -she'd be. 



afti:r taps. 21 

Col. Pete, you are to take good care of everything that 
belongs to me ; and some day, when the war is over, we will 
go North and try to find your mammy. 

Pete. Has you a mammy, Massa Colonel? 

Col. No, Pete ; she died long ago ; but a dear wife and 
sister are praying for a safe return. 

Pete. Massa Colonel, I'll do jes de bery bes I knows. 

Col. Well said, Pete. Now go into my tent and put it 
in order. 

Pete. All right, massa. {Salutes ami enters tent j enter 
Potts and Bijah.) 

Col. Ah, major ! Whom have we here ? 

Potts {salutes). Bijah Bright, the standard-bearer of 
vour regiment. Bijah {salutes.) 

Col. a grave duty, Mr. Bright. May it not be trodden 
beneath your feet. 

Bijah. Wal, I guess not, colonel : not while this right 
arm is strong. Jest feel that muscle. 

Col. Ha, ha! There's no doubt about that, or your 
heart either. 

Bijah. Only one corner reserved ; the rest belongs to 
my country. 

Col. And may I ask who possesses so great a treasure ? 

Bijah. Why, don't you know ? My Polly, your Polly. 

Col. My Polly ? Ah, I see. You mean Polly Primrose. 
Mr. Bright, you are to be congratulated ; she's a treasure. ^ 

Bijah. Don't be in a hurry with good wishes, sir. She's 
on the wing, and my shot has not yet brought her down. 

Col. On the anxious seat, are you? {Giving lumd to 
Bijah.) I can at least wish you success. 

Bijah {salutes'). Thank vou, sir. 

Col. Major, if you see a small darky about here, it is 
all right. He crossed the lines, and I will take care of him. 

Potts. Very well, sir. He shall not be molested. (Potts 
and Bijah salute as Colonel exits past guard, %vho 
salutes; Majou seats /lifnselfon end of log K. ; Bijah walks 
up and doiun.) 

Potts. But tell me more of this Newcomb, Bijah. What 
can be his motive in planning the colonel^ death ? 

Bijah. Wal before Mr. Roger's sister married Colonel 
Graham, Newcomb was all-fired gone on her. I know, for 1 
was about Baltimore at the time and heard no end of gossip. 
You see, Mrs. Graham didn't take to him, and snubbed him 
on all occasions. Bv Jiminy, wasn't he mad! The wnole 
truth of the matter is^ he's bound to be revenged, and takes 
what's nearest and dearest. He was the means of the colo- 



22 AFTER TAI'S. 

nel's injury, and I'm scared blue for fear that he will try it 
again, Roger Carruth has his eye on him, for he has a 
double debt to pay. (Pete heard playitig bafijo inside tent.') 

Potts. What's this? {Goes to tent and brinies Peti:. 
Jiolding baiijo, down stage ; BijAH follows.) Who are 
you ? 

Pete. Please, massa, Ps only Pete. 

Potts. Where did you come from ? 

Pete. Ober dar, massa, and de colonel he's gwine to let 
me stay wid him. 

Potts. Well, give us a tune. 

Pete {salutes). Deed, massa, dis yer belongs to de col- 
onel ; 'specs he wouldn't like to hab me gib yer dat. 

Potts. Yes, he will ; I can answer for that. 

Pete. All right, massa. I'll play de bes I know. 

Potts. Good, and here's a quarter for inspiration. 

{Vv.TK salutes, takes coin, and seats himself on floor c. 
Potts sits on camp-stool ; Pete plays and sings a negro 
melody J Soldiers appear and group at back, listening.) 

Potts. Bravo, bravo! {^oi.t>\va\s applaud, then gradu- 
ally disperse.) I tell you what, Bijah, music and a song 
like that cheer a man up. If we have many more days of 
dead calm and quiet, I shall be tempted to desert the cause 
and soothe my troubled spirit with the society of some fair 
maiden. 

Bijah {turns Pete around ; laughs at coat). You're a 
great one, you are. Wliere did you get that coat .'* 

Pj:te. Massa Colonel gib me dat ; he's heaps good to 
me, he is. I takes care ob eberyting, and Ps his guard. 

Bijah. His what ? Guard } Oh, ho ! You mean body- 
guard. {Whistles; aside.) Wal, I vum, here's an idea. 
We'll work him. {To Pete.) Go back to your work, Pete. 
{ViLT^goes into tent.) Major, I have an idea. (Potts comes 
doiun front ; Bijah takes his arm.) 

Potts. Isn't it rather dangerous to give it away ? 

Bijah. How can we look out for the colonel ? We can't 
always be at his side, or he will suspect something. He 
must not be warned, his health won't stand that. That small 
specimen of black humanity calls himself the colonel's guard ; 
body-guard, he means. Now, why can't he be warned of tlie 
colonel's danger, and I'll trust him for the rest 1 He's might- 
ily taken with the colonel, and you know what a darky's 
devotion is. 

Potts. Bijah, you're a trump! If that is a specimen of 
your stock of ideas, you are a valuable man. Pete, come 
here. (Pete runs out of tent.).^ 



AFTER TAPS. 



23 



Potts. Come here ; we wish to talk with 3'ou. 

Pete. Ts all ready, sar ; bof years wide open. 

BijAH. That's all right. Keep your mouth shut. 

Potts. You like the colonel pretty well, don't you.^ 

Pete. Like him, massa ? Deed I does. He's heaps 
good ter me. Look at des yer cloe's. 

Potts. You can pay him back for them, if you will. 

Pete {pttiting hands 271 pockets ; turns them wrono side 
out; looks at them dolefnlly^ then at Potts). Please, 
massa, I can't gib yer nuffin. 

Potts {patting Pete o)l back). I don't mean money. 

Pete. Does yer mean I can do somefin for him 1 

BijAH. Yes, that's jest the pint. 

Pete. Deed, I'd just like dat. Does yer know what he's 
gwine ter do for me ? When dis yer war is ober he's gwine 
to help me find my mammy. Don't yer tink I "specs him for 
dat? 

Potts. Gad, you're a lucky fellow to find such a friend as 
that. I wish the colonel would help me find a sweetheart. 

Pete {grinning). 'Specs for such a fine-lookin gennle- 
man as you is, massa, de colonel would not have to work 
bery hard. 

Potts. Thank you, Pete. That's praise worth having. 

BijAH. I say, Pete, there's some one in this world, that 
docsnt love the colonel : you must take good care of him. 
One of these fine days some one will try to shoot him. 

Pete. Shoot massa Colonel t Not if Pete can help it. 

BijAH. Mind, you keep both eyes wide open. {Exit 
BijAH through trees.) 

Pete. Deed I will, massa. 

Potts. Pete, my boy, the colonel is one of my dearest 
friends. I promised his wife that I would take good care of 
him, but I may be called away at any moment. I commend 
him to your care. And remember, the trust is a sacred one. 
{Exit Potts.) 

PiiTE {salutes ; wipes eyes on sleeves, and stands looking 
dj ter him). I'll do de bes I knows. Golly, specs I didn't 
jine de army for nuffin. {Goes into tent j brings 02it pail and 
exits R. through the trees for water. Enter Polly, wearing 
cloak a7id poke bonnet., with basket covered with napkin on 
ann, leading DoR., disguised as an old lady; bonnet with 
veil over face.) 

Polly {out of breath). My gracious ! thankful enough, I 
am, that we are out of sight of those horrid soldiers. One 
of them tried to kiss me. Ugh ! it makes me shiver to think 
of it. Miss Doroihy, here we are at last. 



24 AFTER TAPS. 

Dor. {raising veil). Indeed. I am thankful too. I am 
so tired. {Looks about.) Where are we, Polly.? 

Polly. Right in camp, miss ; see that tent ? I wonder 
who lives there ? Let's look in and find out. {Both ettter 
tent.) 

Dor. {takes pictiire in frame from table). Look, Polly, 
Mrs. Graham's picture. It must be the colonel's. 

Polly. Pity sakes alive ! so it is. He must not see us 
here. 

Dor. No indeed. I wonder how I can find Roger ; ever 
since I overheard that plot, sleep has forsaken me. 

Polly {iualkin<^ about, looking through trees r). Some 
one is coming this way. [Looks again.) And I really believe 
it is Major Potts. 

Dor. They say " Fortune favors the brave.'' This is 
indeed a lucky find. (Polly beckons ; Major appears.) 

Potts. Why, Polly Primrose, what are you doing here ? 
{Sees Dor.) Miss Dorothy, have you lost your senses ? In 
camp ! How did you enter? 

Dor. Behold my disguise. {Pulls veil over face ; then 
lifts iti) I am Polly's antiquated aunt. She has cakes to 
sell. 

Polly. Yes, do have one. {Offers cakes.) 

Potts {takina^ one). But what means this masquerading ? 

Dor. I must see Roger, Pinky, and could think of no 
way but this. I must tell him of the plot I overheard. 

Potts. I thought you were to leave that to me. Lost 
your faith in your old friend? 

Dor. {taking /lis hand). Don't think that for a moment. 
I could not remain at home. I did not dare tell Ruth, and I 
must tell my thoughts to some one; they were driving me 
frantic. Do find Roger for me — that's a dear fellow. 

Potts. That is easier said than done. He must keep 
out of the colonel's way, and that is his tent. 

Dor. You have wits enough to manage that. Don't tell 
him who is here, leave that to me ; I mean to give him a sur- 
prise. 

Potts. Let a woman alone for keeping a secret. You 
will undeceive him in five minutes. I know enough of the 
fair sex for that. 

Dor. If you were not Roger's best friend, I should say 
something that you would not like. 

Potts. I fly to do your bidding. Don't empty your vial 
of pent-up wrath over my defenceless shoulders. I should 
not dare to look a pretty girl in the face for a week. 

Dor. What a vacation the pretty girls would have! 



AFTER TAPS. 2^ 

Come, do hurry, or the colonel will return and spoil every- 
thing. 

Potts. Azi revoir .' {Salutes and exit past se7itinel, who 
salutes.') 

Dor. My heart is fluttering like an imprisoned butterfly. 
Hark ! Polly, some one else is coming. 

Polly {lookifig). Pity sakes alive! It's Bijah Bright; 
seat yourself on this log and don't speak. (Dor. copiers 
face ; seats herself on log ; Polly draws hood together.) 

{Enter Bijah, r.) 

Bijah. Wal, I agree with tlie major. This is getting 
monotonous ; my blood boils for excitement ; even the sight 
of a pretty face wouldn't go bad. That reminds me. {Takes 
picture OK t of pocket.) If I can't do that, there is no law 
to prevent me from looking at a pretty girl's picture ; and 
"by gorry,'' she is worth looking at. {Kisses picture) 

Polly. Well, I never! Now, I should just like to know 
— another g\x\, has he ? I'll pay him well for that ; deceiving 
me with his soft speeches. 

Bijah {turns). Bless my soul ! if here isn't a sweet lass 
now. What ! ho ! my pretty maid ; where are you going.'' 

Polly {disguises voice ; coiirtesying). If you please, sir, 
I have cakes to sell. {Uncovers basket.) 

Bijah. Here's luck. Just what I've been looking for. 
ril take half a dozen. {Gives coin; bites cake.) My! 
what cakes ! " Is this heaven. Uncle Tom ? " {Bites again.) 
These bring to me visions of Polly's kitchen and her pies. 

Where'er I roam, where'er I be, 
No cakes can equal Polly P's. 

This is richness. {To Polly.) Why do you hide your 
f;ice ? Let me look at you. 

Polly. Indeed I can't. 

BijAH. You can't. W\il, I can. {Tries fo raise her head.) 
Come now. give me a kiss. (Polly suddejily raises head., 
(It rows back hood and discloses herself to Bijah's astonished 
ga,c^> 

Bijah. Polly — Polly Primrose ! 

Polly {indignantly). Yes, Polly — Polly Primrose. 
Aren't you ashamed of yourself? You're a nice kind of a 
man, you are, pretending to be fond of me. 

Bijah. Oh, come, Polly, I didn't mean any harm. 

Polly. Oh no, no harm, of course not. Kissing every 
girl you meet. Don't speak to me — I'll never trust you or 
any other man again. 



26 AFTER TAPS. 



{Enter Potts and Roger.) 



Potts. What is this ? An indignation meeting } Bijah 
quarrelling with a pretty woman .^ No, yes, it is — Polly 
Primrose ; but who is this ? {Looking at Don.) 

POLLV. That's my aunt, she came with me. 

Roger. Poor old lady ; she seems tired. 

PoLLV. That she is ; but she's never too tired to tell for- 
tunes ; wouldn't you like to hear yours '^ 

Roger. Anything to kill lime. {Goes to DoR.) Come, 
let's hear it. My time is short. {Looking about.) No dan- 
ger of the colonel's appearance, is there, Potts ? 

Potts. No, Roger, he is busily engaged. I've looked 
out for that. 

Roger. Good! Now, what is the wheel of fortune to 
bring me ? Oh ! {Crosses DoR.'s palm with silver.') I re- 
member, no golden treasure disclosed, unless the key be 
silver. 

Dor. {taking Roger's hand; disguised voice). Young 
man, you have had serious trouble ; some cloud hangs over 
you. You are suspected of some crime. 

Roger {starting). What witchcraft is here ? 

Dor. But you are innocent. If you have patience, your 
name will soon be cleared. 

Roger. I hope so with all my heart. 

Dor. You have a good heart, and, let me see — yes 
— that line is crossed — you have given it to some one. 

{Exeunt Polly and Bijah through trees, l.) 

Potts {slapping Roger on back ; laughs). You are hard 
hit, old man. Even the witches can read your heart. 

Dor. {addressing Potts). Your time is coming, sir. 
" He laughs best who laughs last.'' 

Roger. Ha, ha! Potts, some time that heart of yours 
won't stand the fire. Then I will charter a Catling gun to 
return all your volleys. 

Dor. (looking at Roger's hand). But what is this ? 
Some danger lurks near a friend; perhaps a brother. 

Roger. I have no brother. 

Dor. No ; not a real brother, but — 

Roger. The colonel ? 

Dor. {excitedly). Yes, yes. You must save him. He 
shall owe his life to you. Some one calling himself friend is 
his foe. {Rising; forgets, and assumes natural 7'oice.) 
He has done you a grievous wrong, but you w^ill forgive 
that } 



AFTER TAPS. 2J 

Roger. That voice! (/?^/>-?i- Dorothy's 7/^//.) Dorothy? 

Potts. Cleverly done, little maid. You actually waited 
eight minutes. {Looks at watch.) 

"Roger. Major ! Dorothy, what does this mean ? 

PoT-TS. A well-laid scheme, Roger, to hold a stolen in- 
terview with you. Miss Dorothy, you can talk with Roger 
JL'.st five minutes, no longer. The colonel will return by that 
time. 

{Exit Major. Roger sits on log; Dor. kneels at his side.) 

Dor. Forgive me for coming, Roger, but I was so 
anxious. 

Roger. Anxious, little one ? Why, what is the trouble ? 
Is it a quarrel with '• my dearest friend Mollie " ? 
, Dor. Don't speak like that. No one ever gives me credit 
for any depth of feeling, just because I laugh and take the 
good of life as it comes along. 

Roger. Which I hope you will always do, Dorothy dear. 
Come, forgive me, and tell me your trouble. 

Dor. Before the colonel, left home after his illness, Mr. 
Newcomb called one day. I entered the drawing-room, and 
overheard a conversation which he was having with some 
man, — a soldier in the colonel's regiment. 

Roger. Did you hear the man's name? 

Dor. Yes ; Mr. Newcomb called him Gibbs. Oh, I was 
so frightened, for I heard them plan to kill the colonel.' 

Roger. Kill the colonel ? How? When? 

Dor. This man was, some night, to be placed as the 
colonel's sentinel. That was to be the time and place. 
" After Taps " they said. 

Roger. Flave you told any one of this ? 

Dor. Only the major. It would never do to tell Ruth. 
She worries enough without that. 

Roger. And "you have kept it all to yourself? No won- 
der you were anxious. Dorothy, you are a treasure. 

Dor. But tell me, how can you save Gordon ? 

Roger. He says and thinks hard things of me, Dorothy. 
{Both 7-ise.) 

Dor. But you know at heart he does not mean it. It is 
all through that horrid Newcomb. 

Roger. Yes ; that horrid Newcomb. 

Dor. Promise me that you will do your best to save him. 

Roger. No need to promise that. He is your brother ; 
for that, if for no other reason, I must forget and forgive. 

Dor. Roger, you have made me so happy. 

Roger. Then, for all I have suffered, I ask no better 
reward. 



28 AFTER TAPS. 

{Enter Potts.) 

Potts. Time's up. (Polly and Bijah enter.) Where 
is Polly ? 

Polly. Here I am, sir. 

(Bijah very dejected.) 

Roger. Bijah, escort them both. Give the countersign, 
that they may cross the lines safely. 

Polly. We do not need his assistance. He had better 
wait for another girl. {G/ares at Bijah.) Come, Miss 
Dorothy. 

RoGLR {embraces Doit.). Good-by, sweetheart. No more 
anxious moments, remember. 

Dor. Never. Good-by, Pinky. 

{Exeunt Dorothy, Polly, aiid Bijah.) 

Potts. Poor Bijah looks unhappy, because the maid of 
his heart won't smile upon him. He has a good heart, and 
is "true as steel.'' 

Roger {hand on Potts's shoidder ; music). Indeed he is. 
No one knows it better than I. He stood my friend in my 
darkest hours. Ah, Potts ! 1 have a hard battle yet to fight. 
Newcomb must not win the day. My plan is a bold one. 
Stand by me, old man ; your friendship will be tried. {Taking 
/lis /land.) But those honest eyes of yours never failed me 
yet. This firm pressure of your hand, and the knowledge of 
Dorothy's faith and love, give me strength and courage to do 
my duty. 



Scene II. — Same as Scene /. Evening. Kilroy has been 
relieved; lights across the river; table I'emoved froju the 
stage., c. 

Pete {discovered ligJiting candle in Colonel's toil). 
Golly, I feels powerful big, 1 does, wid dis yer coat ob de 
colonel's. 'Specs some time, dey will mistook us, and I gets 
all de salutes. {Comes out of tent.) Dey will 'proach me 
dis yer fashion. {Imitates Orderly and salutes.) Massa 
Colonel. {Imitates Colonel.) Yas, sar. {Imitates Or- 
derly.) A 'spatch from de general. {Imitates.) Ver)- 
well, sar. {Salutes; walks about with dignity; enter 
Kilroy.) 

KiL. Faith, and if it ain't the shmall heathen we saved 
from the other soide, Luk at the shtyle of him, — parading 



AFTER TAPS. 



29 



about wid the colonel's shtripes and buttons. Whist, honey, 
phat are yees doing wid that coat ? 

Pete {turnim^). I's habin' heaps of fun, I is. Massa 
Colonel gib me dis yer coat, an' Ts playin' wid my 'magina- 
tion, an' tinks I'se de colonel. 

KiL. Playin' wid phat is it .^ The nixt thing you know, 
it may be powder phat's playin' wid you. 

Pete. Does yer 'member, sah, when I comed across de 
line ? 

KiL. Will, indade I does. A foine specimen yees were. 
Shure, for a minit, I thought it was the divil himself, coming 
to give me a surprise party. 

Pete {grins). Den yer don't trabel wid him all de time, 
massa .-^ 

KiL. Oh, yer shpalpeen ! {Strikes at Pete, who dodges, 
turns a somersault, and exit past sentinel.) 

KiL. A shmart one, by the powers ! Travel with the 
divil is it ? Faith, and he goes it so fast, niver a bit cud 
I kape up wid him. If that shmall imp don't show more 
respict to his betthers, a shmall chance he'll get to travel 
with any one. 

{Exit KiL., R. ; Guard approaches with change of sentinel.) 

Sent. Halt! Who comes there ? 

Guard. Friend. 

Sent. Advance, iViend, and give the countersign. 

(Guard gives it ; Gibbs stands as sentinel ; relieved Sen- 
tinel inai'ches off behind Guard.) 

Gibbs. I wonder if Newcomb is on the watch. Yes ; 
here he comes. Too clever to miss the game. 

{Enter Col. ajtd New. ; Gibbs salutes Col. ; New. looks 
at Gibbs, and starts.) 

Col. What's the matter, Newcomb.'* Not nervous, are 
you .'' 

New. It's nothing. Thought 1 saw a shadow. Do you 
have any of those black devils hanging about here '^. 

Col. Yes, occasionally one ; but they never give us any 
trouble. One little fellow crossed the line to-day, and he 
was so bright and clever. — wanted to stay here with me ; so 
I have set him to work, and I expect he will take excellent 
care of me. I admire the devotion of that race ; treat them 
kindly, and you are always sure of plenty of friends. 

New. I prefer a higher type of humanity for associates. 



30 AFTER TAPS. 

Col. What a pity. Newcomb, that two such warm friends 
as we should not have heart for the same cause! However, 
some day you will be of my opinion, I hope. 

(Col. sits at table inside tent ; New. on stool at opening.^ 

New. Hardly that, yet. Whatever the end may be, I 
trust we shall still be good comrades. 

Col. That sentiment I echo with my whole heart. But 
tell me, Newcomb, do you ever hear anything of Roger 
Carruth .'' 

(GiBBS listens at side of tent. ^ 

New. Never. He won't show himself in this part of the 
country again. 

CoL. You are sure that you have evidence of his guilt ? 
I would not misjudge the boy for all the world ; I am too 
fond of him for that. 

New. Why should 1, his friend and yours, seek to turn 
you against him } 

GiBBS {aside). Why, indeed ! 

Col. I cannot understand it — so true and honorable, 
always. Some fearful temptation must have stood in his 
way. 

New. Evil will show itself. If the seed is there, time 
will surely make it grow. 

Col. No, no, Newcomb ; don't say that. Why, man, 
would you have me think for a moment that it was more than 
a sudden pitfall ? 

New. The evidence grows stronger and stronger against 
him. 

Col. Oh, Newcomb, this is so hard to bear ! (^Co7>ers 
face with hands; Gibijs }'eturns to place and resumes 
inarcJi.) 

New. (/7>6'j'). Never mind, old fellow. {Places hand on 
COL.'s arm.) You have some friends left who have not 
played the knave. 

Col. {rising; holds out hand). True, Newcomb; 1 have 
much to thank you for. This kindly interest in my welfare, 
I trust the time will come when I can repay it. 

New. Don't worry about that. {Looks at watch.) It is 
almost time for taps. 

Col. Won't you stay and smoke with me ? 

New. Not to-night. Early hours are prescribed for you. 
Good-night. 

Col. Good-night- 



AFTER TAPS. 3 1 

(New. goes up stage; Col. enters tent; enter Pete, r. ; 

sees New. talking with Gibbs.) 

Pete. I wonder if he lubs de colonel. 'Specs I jes listen 
to der comversation. (^Creeps behind tree near Gibes.) 

New. Well, are you ready for your work .'* 

GiBBS. Yes, sir. 

New. No chicken-hearted business about this. Is your 
aim a true one ? 

Gibbs. Yes; true as steel. 

New. I can depend upon you ? 

Gibbs. You can, sir. I feel a special interest in the work 
to-night. 

New. At what time ? 

Gibbs. After taps. 

New. It will soon be here. {Bugle-call for taps.) 

Gibbs. That is the call. Ten minutes more ; before the 
lights are out. 

New. All right. Make your shot tell. 

Gibbs. I will do my best, sir. 

New. Good-night. (Gibbs salutes; New. exit?^ 

Pete {shaking). Golly, my hair just frozen stiff; bof my 
knees powerful confectionate. Dey's plotting mischief, dey 
is. An' if Pete don't keep bof eyes wide open, dere will be 
trouble in de camp. {Hides behind tree.) 

{Enter Major and Bijah.) 

Potts. Newcomb is about the camp. I fear mischief is 
brewing. 

Bijah. Td jest like to see the sport.- I wonder who he 
is working this time. 

Major {goes to Col.'s tent; salutes). All right for the 
night, colonel ? 

Col. {raising head from hand). Yes, major ; good-night. 

Major. Good-night. {.Salutes.) 

Bijah {looking through trees in flat, l.). Major, look 
there! I'll bet you a liver, that's Newcomb. 

Potts {looking over Bijah 's shoulder). You're right. 
Let us hide and watch him. {Both hide in trees, l. ; drum- 
call for lights out; stage darkens; COL. puts otit candle 
and stands in do or iv ay.) 

CoL. I wonder where that snowball of mine is ? Pete ! 
Pete ! 

Pete {ru7ts across stage). Here I is {salutes), massa ! 

CoL. What are you doing at this time of night ? 

Pete. I's watchin' somefin, massa. I heard a crackling 



32 • AFrr.K TATS. 

in der l)ushes ; 'specs it possum. Yer don't mind if I looks, 
massa ? 

Col. No ; only don't stray away too far. 

Pete. 'Deed I won't, Massa Colonel. {Sa/uUs, ami 
7'es7iincs luatch.) 

BijAH. You bet he scents the q;ame. 

Col. {crosses stage, goes up back ; statuis looking at I'iver) 
I wonder why it is my thoughts are all o{ Roger to-night. 
Poor Ruth! how heavy her lieart is; and I spoke words 
which did not lighten the burden. Down deep in my heart 
I cannot think him guilty. Yet Newcomb is so sure, — and 
Newcomb knows. {To Sentinel.) Everything all right. '^ 

GiBHS {salutes). All right, sir. 

(Col. turns to ciiter tent ; New. appears at extreme l., a)id 
watches Gibbs ; Gibbs sees New., stops a ?nomejit, tJien 
follows Col., aims at him, turns quickly, and Ji7'es at 
New. Pete, who has follonwd Gibbs, springs upon his 
back, and grasps him soon as shot is Jired. New. is 
wounded in wrist. Gibbs swings Pete around and 
knocks him senseless with butt of gun. Potts ajid Bijah 
seize Gibbs ; Col. turns as shot is Jired; Soldiers appear; 
stage grows light ; Kil. runs to Pete and raises head.) 

New. {holding wrist). The traitor! Til pay him well for 
this. 

Col. What does this mean } Treason in the camp? 

New. It means, colonel, that this man attempted your 
life. I overheard his plotting and came to warn you. He 
missed fire, and my wrist caught the shot. 

Col. Where is the sentinel ? 

Kil. {points at Gibbs). Faith, and there he is. 

Col. So, sir, placed here on honor to guard your colonel's 
life, you turn traitor. Speak, man, why have you done this ? 
(Gibbs remains silejit.) 

Col. {oroes to Pete). Poor little tellow ! You have killed 
him. 

Kil. If yees plaze, colonel, his sinses are only knocked 
out of him. 

Col. {to Gibbs). Man, why are you silent? 

New. He is too great a coward to defend himself. He 
dare not speak. {Music.) 

Gibbs. Dare not ? Be careful, Newcomb ; the game is 
not yet yours. You call me traitor : coward. Yet beneath 
the stars in heaven there is not one who wears, beneath his 
coat, a blacker heart than yours. 

New. What do you mean ? Who are you that dares to 
accuse me ? 



AFTER TAPS. 33 

GiBBS {right arm free). One who has suffered much at 
your hands ; who has borne with patience your taunts and 
slurs ; who, knowing of the coloneTs danger, tried to save 
his hfe. One whom you thought '*as good as dead" stands 
bei'ore you. A victim of your treachery, {l^ears off luhiskers 
and wig.) Roger Carruth. 

(Tableau. — Kil., c, kneeling and holding Pete's head 
on knees ; CoL. staggers back and leans against soldiers, 
who support him ; Potts a}id Bijah each holding one 
of Roger's hands ^ looking at him ; Roger looking at 
New., who stares at him horror-stricke7t.) 

CURTAIN. 



34 AFTER TAPS. 



ACT III. 

HOME AGAIN. 

Scene. — Same as Act I.: three jnonths later. Time — 
eveniui^. Pete, as Buttons, discovered ligJiting the 
lamps; PoLLY arranoing papers on table, and putting 
room in order, generally. 

Polly. Now, Pete, make everything briij;ht and cheerful. 
Mr. Roger is expected home to-night ; we must do our share 
towards a warm welcome. The poor colonel is so unhappy. 
Between the treachery of his friend, and Mr. Roger's brave 
deed, he is torn with conflicting emotions. 

Peti-:. Ts powerful sorry for dear Massa Colonel. Wish 
I could do somefin for him. 

Polly. You do your work well, tha^; will satisfy him. 
{Takes banjo from corner.^ But I tell you what, Pete, you 
can do something for me. Play a dance tune on this banjo. 
I haven't heard one since I left Oldtown. I can tell you 
what, Pete, I knew how to dance once. 

Pete. Yer don't need to tell me dat, Polly ; I kin see 
de dancin' peeking out ob yer shoes. What yer gwine ter 
have .'' 

Polly. Give me a Virginia Reel. My gracious ! I just 
adored that dance. 

Pete. All right, Polly. You do der dancin', an' I play 
de tune. {Flays banjo.') 

(Polly keeps time with head and hands; growiiig inter- 
ested, enters into the dance ; advances with right hand 
extended, pretends to swing partner ; then left hand; then 
both hands; marches, slapping hands ; grows more inter- 
ested; fnally swings Pete and banjo; then sinks into 
chair, laughing; KiL., /;/ livery, appears at door, c.) 

Pete {overcome with surprise). Golly, Polly, yer jest 
took my bref away. You must have been to a powerful heap 
of corn shuckings ; an' de gennlemen dey must lub to dance 



AFTER TAPS. 35 

wid you. Golly, 'specs dey don't all hab a 'sprise party like 
I did. 

Polly. Pete, that was just glorious! I'm ever so much 
obliged to you for playing. 

Pete. I's right proud ob you, I is. If dis yer heart ob 
mine didn't belong to a nigger, 'specs 1 should frow it at yer 
feet. 

KiL. Faith, and it's an Irish heart she can have, anyv/ay. 

Polly {tuniing). Pity sakes alive ! What are you doing 
here "^ 

Kil. It's a missage I have for the colonel. 

Pete. Lor, Polly. Dis yer is de soger what didn't shoot 
when dis yer nigger crossed de line. {Salutes Kil.) I's 
heaps glad to see you, sah. Does yer disremember me ? 

Kil. F'aith, an' it's Pete, the colonel's guard. {Shaking 
hands with him.) What a foine by yees grown to. • Shure 
it's a betther fitting coat yees have on, anyway. 

Pete. Yas, indeed. Ps Buttons, now, I is. Don't yer 
tink dis yer coat obercomes me ? 

Kil. Faith, it's a foine picture yees look in it. 

Polly. I remember ; you are the soldier that was so 
kind to Pete. 

Kil. • Oh, yees make me blush, — the sight of those 
bright eyes, and the swate words yees be afther saying. 
Shure, a foiner jig I never saw in the ould country. Will 
yees be afther telling the colonel I am here ? 

Polly. Yes, Pete will do that. Ask if the messenger 
shall be sent to his room. 

Pete. All right, Polly. Who is de message from, sah } 

Kil. Mr. Randolph Newcomb, if yees plaze. 

{Exit Pete, l.) 

Polly. Should think that Mr. Newcomb had done mis- 
chief enough. You can't be very proud of your master. 

Kil. Faith, and it's litde I care about him. I applied for 
the situation to plaze Mr. Roger. Shure, it's a policeman 
I am in foine livery. 

Polly. Oh, I see, something more mysterious. 

{Enter Pete.) 

Pete. Massa Colonel will receib de message, sah. Yer 
is to follow me. 

Kil. An' phat if that foine man, the divil, be afther kaping 
me company ? 

Pete. Den I goes first, massa, ebery time. I wouldn't 
for de world disturb de confections dat exist between you 
two. 



36 AFTER TAPS. 

KiL. Faith, an' if yees have a foiner coat, you're a black 
guard ^\\X\\\. 

{Exeunt KiL. and Pkte ; the latter making fu)i of ¥.11.1) 

Polly. Pete's briijht enoucjh for him. I've taken quite 
a shine to my black diamond. (Bijah appears in door, c.) 
How devoted he is to the colonel I Hei<iho ! wish some one 
was devoted to me. Nonsense ; I don't care. I am so 
liappy, now that horrid war is over. I am ready to embrace 
an}body and everybody. {Extends arfns; BijAii steps 
quickly, and Polly embraces him.) 

Bijah. And I am just the man to appreciate it, Polly. 

Polly. Bijah Bright ! Bless my soul, how you frighten 
me ! Back from the war, are you } 

Bijah. Yes, Polly. When I left you. patriotism filled 
my breast. I carried the flag, torn and tattered as it was, 
and, contrary to your expectations, was not suspended in 
mid-air. I lived for glory by day, and at night dreamed 
sweet dreams. They were all of you, Polly. 

Polly. Dreaming of me! Stuff and nonsense. Do you 
take me for a brainless Down-Easter, that you come with 
your sweet words and '' palaverin '' smiles. {Dramatically.) 
Away I " I'll have none of you.'' • 

Bijah {sinks into chair). Won't you ever forgive me, 
Polly, for that day in camp ? 

Polly. Never! 

Think of me, dream of me, 

Whatever you will, 
Tiiat hour, that moment. 

It rankles me still. 

Besides, what should I have to say to you ? A man who car- 
ries in his pocket other girls' pictures, and spends all his 
time kissing them. 

Bijah {aside). Oho ! I see wliere the shoe pinches. 
{To Polly.) Why shouldn't I .^ That's what I'd like to 
know. One moment you smile upon me. and my blood fran- 
tically and joyfully perambulates through my veins ; and tlie 
next time my eager orbs behold you, an animated iceberg 
would be a more cheerful companion. You needn't flatter 
yourself that because you don't want me, no one else does. 
You can bet your sweet life. Bijah Bright doesn't mean to 
get left. No, ma'am. {Taking picture out of pocket.) Not 
when he has such a sweet face as this to look at. 

Polly {tossing head). Don't flatter yourself that you can 
make me jealous. Precious little thought I give to you or 
your picture. 



AFTER TAPS. 37 

BijAH, You are just dying to see who it is. 

Polly. Indeed, I'm not. Some baby-faced simpleton. 

BijAH. Come, Polly, it is too bad for you to treat me so 
when I returned, hoping to share with you a secret. 

Polly. Secret ! Oh, tell it to me, do. 

BijAH. Oh, no. Miss Primrose ; I only make a confidant 
of my friends. 

Polly. Well, I'll be friends for just ten minutes. 

BijAH. Will you though ? Not by a large majority. No 
fiiendship for me on the instalment plan. 

Polly. Til be friends. {Gives he?' hand.) Now, tell 
n^e quick. 

BijAH. Ha, ha, ho, ho ! I thought that would fetch it. 
A woman's curiosity is not fireproof against a volley of 
gossip. 

Polly. If you talk like that, I shall leave the room. 

BijAH (^taking her arm; brings her dowfi front). No, 
you won't, you are just dying to stay here. {Holds picture 
and forces Polly to look at it; Polly looks at picture, then 
at BijAH.) 

Polly. Oh, Bijah ! {Hides her face on his shoulder.) 

BijAH {laughing). You had better hide your face, Polly. 
Jealous of your own picture. That settles it : no more 
" Nays " for me. We'll give the folks in Oldtovvn a surprise, 
Polly, and the wedding shall be in the old church. 

Polly. Oh, Bijah ! But don't be in a hurry. Be serious 
and tell me about Mr. Roger. 

Bijah. You know how he did old Newcomb up that day 
in camp.'' 

Polly. Yes, that was the time when Pete was injured 
and was sent home by the colonel. 

BijAH. Wal, Newcomb ain't done for yet. You see, when 
Mr. Roger was in the bank, I was there too. Of course, I 
wasn't president or director, Polly ; only had to sorter keep 
my eye on everybod3% and I jest did. I saw something that 
when it's known will be worse thati dynamite, you jest bet. 

Polly. It seems to me that you are a rolling-stone, 
Bijah. The last time I heard of you before the war, you were 
poultry farming in Oldtown. 

Bijah. I could not make that work. I had read about 
the money in raising poultry. Fortunes made in no time ; 
and my fancy pictured this enormous poultry farm. The 
name of Bijah Bright immortalized. Oh, yes, there's money 
in it, Polly ; for I left all mine there, and had only experi- 
ence to put in my pocket. 

Polly. But what is the wonderful news you have to tell ? 



38 AFTER TAPS. 

BijAH. Just wait. You want to be proud of me. It will 
be a scorcher. 

Polly. Don't be so mysterious, Bijah ; you don't know 
everything in this world. 

Bijah. No, and I don't want to. Let me be sure that the 
heart of Miss Polly Primrose beats for me alone, and that 
will satisfy my cravings for knowledge. Come, let us depart 
to the charms of the culinary department. Methinks I see 
visions of your pies, Polly. There in each other's genial 
society we will partake of pie, and talk over that coming wed- 
ding in Oldtown. {Exeunt Polly and Bijah, r. ; enter 
Colonel and Kilkoy, l.) 

Col. Tell your master, Mr. Newcomb, that I will see him 
this evening. 

KiL. Indade, sir, he shall have your orders. {Aside.) 
Faith, it's a foine pie they be afther baking for Newcomb. 
By me powers, I wouldn't loike to be here at the cutting of 
it. {Exit KiLROY, c.) 

CoL. {sinks into chair at table). It is hard to believe in 
Newcomb's treachery ; he has always seemed so warm a 
friend. {Enter Ruth, r.) 

Rl'TH {goes to Colonrl). Gordon, what did that mes- 
senger want? Who sent him ? 

Col. Randolph Newcomb. 

Ruth. I thought as much ; what was the message .-* 

Col. Asking permission to see me ! 

Ruth. You'did not consent ? 

Col. Yes, Ruth, I am to see him this evening. 

Ri'TH. He shall not see you. 

Col. Ruth ! 

Ruth {kneels and takes Colonel's hand j 7nusic). Gor- 
don, why will you let him poison your heart against Roger? 
He is wily and cunning ; you have proof of his treachery, 
yet your heart, once loyal to your friend, cannot without a 
struggle believe in his dishonor. Think no more of this 
man, but tell me of Roger, and that night in camp. 

Col. Poor fellow, his experience has been a bitter one. 
Shall I tell you the whole story, little one ? 

Ruth. Yes, Gordon, every word. 

Col. {holding Ruth's hand). When the call for volun- 
teers was heard throughout the country, Roger's lieart re- 
sponded to the call. Entering the service as a private, he 
tried to forget his wrongs in earnest work. Knowing the 
attempt upon my life, he sought the man who fired the shot. 
Dowling was confined as prisoner, awaiting sentence. Roger 
promised to help him, if he would confess tlie name of the 



AFTER TAPS. 39 

instigator of the crime. Dowling at last did so, and you 
know who the guilty one proved to be. Oh, Ruth, to think 
a tried and old friend could be so base. {^Covers face with 
/ia?tds.) 

Ruth. Never mind, Gordon ; perhaps better now to learn 
his falseness than later; go on. 

Col. Roger, knowing that Newcomb would not stop at 
one attempt, determined to place himself in his way and act 
the knave. Assuming a disguise, he so completely lost his 
identity that Newcomb was well deceived, and before many 
meetings employed Roger to finish the work which had 
proved a blunder in the beginning. It was, as you know, 
planned for the night that Roger would act as my sentinel : 
the time after taps. Newcomb, always solicitous for my wel- 
fare, was a daily visitor in camp, and that night was on the 
watch to be sure that there was no blundering in the work. 

Ruth. Gordon, it chills my blood to think of it. 

Col. To deceive him. Roger aimed at me, but fired at 
him, and would have killed him on the spot, but Pete, having 
been warned that my life was in danger, was on the watch, 
and sprang upon Roger's back and caught his arm ; the shot 
grazed Newcomb's wrist. 

Ruth. Brave Pete and noble Roger. 

Col. And to think, Ruth, that this was all for revenge. 
Thank Heaven, he did not succeed in winning the heart that, 
full of love and noble devotion, has been my inspiration in 
my darkest hours. (^Embraces her j imtsic ceases.) 

Ruth. Yet you will see Newcomb again. 

Col. He wishes to com.promise, XRises.) Ruth, how 
pale you look. When are the roses coming back to your 
cheeks ? 

Ruth. When all is well with Roger, and you are happy 
again. 

Col. My heart will not be lighter until I ask Roger's 
forgiveness for doubting him. I wonder why he does not 
return ? 

Ruth. He is seeking more evidence to clear his name. 

Col. I am going to my study, Ruth. My head feels 
heavy ; perhaps a short sleep will refresh me. Ruth, you 
too have much to forgive. I have doubted your brother. 

Ruth. But not in your heart, Gordon. I have always 
been sure of that. 

Col. Thank Heaven that my harsh words have not 
crushed out all your faith. {Exetint Colonel and Ruth, 
h. ; enter Potts and Dorothv, r.) 

Dor, Go on, Pinky, I am just dying to hear, 



40 AFTER TAPS. 

Potts. You see, we knew it all the time, but just how 
and when Roger was to square it with Newcomb was 
beyond our knowledge. You ought to have been there — 
just a jolly row. When Roger threw off his disguise, you 
should have seen Newcomb's face. Old Nick himseH' could 
not have looked more insane. 

Dor. Then the plot I overheard was no news to Roger .f* 

Potts. No, for under the disguise of Gibbs he held that 
interview with Newcomb. 

Dor. Right in this room, and I didn't know it. Well, I 
never! But isn't it just glorious, Pinky. How did Roger 
escape arrest .' 

Potts. Hard as it was for the colonel to believe New- 
comb guilty, he, of course, took Roger's side. Newcomb 
tried a'game of bluff, but it didn't work. He is at large, but 
we are only waiting for some new development. It will 
come, and with it the downfall of Newcomb. 

Dor. He ricidy deserves it. Think of the wrong he has 
done Roger. 

Potts {taking Iwfh /ler Iiands). Your faith and devotion 
to Roger have just made me hungry. I want some one to 
have faith in me, too. Now, don't breathe it, but I've just 
" gone and done " it myself. 

Dor. Pinky, what do you mean ? You are in love with 
a girl .^ 

Potts. Why, of course. You would not have me fall in 
love with a spinster of many summers, would you? Guess 
who it is. 

Dor. {trying to think). I cannot for the very life of me 
imagine who it can be. 

Potts. Let me whisper it. {Whispers.) 

Dor. {delighted). No, really.^ Mollie .? My dearest 
friend. There, I knew she had some secret. Pinky, 1 could 
just hug you, but I won't. 1 will reserve that demonstration 
for Mollie. {Rings bell.) Do you rememl)er what I told you 
about the fascinating little woman ? Now Roger will have 
an opportunity to return some of your happy remarks. 
{Enter Polly.) Polly, my hat and wrap. 

Polly. Yes, miss. {Brings tJieni from door, r.) 

Potts. Why, where are you going .'* 

(Polly Jielps Dorothy luitJi wrap and exit.) 

Dor. To see Mollie, of course, and talk it all over. I 
will tell her what a sweet lamb I think you are. {Exit, c.) 
Potts {laughing). Good enough, Potts : your ears will 



AFTER TAPS. 4I 

burn steadily for just one hour. No, I will follow and save 
my reputation. {Exit.) 

{Enter Newcomb iduI Pete.) 

New. The colonel will see me in his private room ? 

Pete. Yes, sah ; dis way, sah. {Goes towards door, L. ; 
Ruth etiters, closes door, and stands before it.) 

Ruth. What would you have, Mr. Newcomb? 

New. I would speak with the colonel, madam, 

Ruth. Not in this house. You have done mischief 
enough with your treachery. My house shall see no more 
of it. 

New. Harsh words from you, an old friend, Mrs. Graham. 

Ruth. Don't call us friends, Mr. Newcomb. The time 
is past for that. From the first, your presence has been dis- 
tasteful to me. I tried to be courteous, for you posed as my 
husband's friend. Now that we know you in your true 
colors, I can speak freely. I loathe and despise you ; leave 
this house. 

New. Excuse me, Mrs. Graham, but your husband has 
given me his word that he will see me. 

Ruth. And you have mine — you shall not see him. 

New. You are a clever woman, Mrs. Graham, and though 
you once scorned my love, 1 cannot but admire your courage. 

Ruth {scornfully). Your love ! That is an emotion 
which has never entered your being. Your heart is too cold 
and treacherous ; it cannot harbor that which is loyal and 
true. I am only too thankful that I escaped such preten- 
sions. 

New. Have a care, madam ; 1 am too dangerous to trifle 
with. Let me pass ! No woman shall stand in my way ! 
{Tries to take Jier from door by force; Roger enters, takes 
Newcomb by sJionlder a7id turns him round.) 

Roger. What are you trying to do, sir .f* 

New. Roger Carruth ! You here ? 

Roger. Yes, I am here. 

Ruth. He wishes to hold a private interview with the 
colonel, and I object. 

Roger. Pete, tell your master I would like to see him 
here. 

Pete. Yas, massa. {Aside.) Golly, tribulations am 
a-comin'. Massa Newcomb wish he were a deader. 

[Exit, L. 

New. Mr. Carruth, this interview is for the colonel alone. 

Roger. Sorry, Newcomb, but as I take an active inter- 
est in your welfare, you must submit to my presence. 



42 AFTER TAPS. 

Col. {enters). Roger and Newcomb together? 

Roger. Yes, colonel. Newcomb wishes to see you on 
a matter of business ; I surely think I have the right to 
hear. 

Col. No one has a better. Speak. Newcomb, before us 
all. 

New. Very well ; I have no hesitancy. I thought pos- 
sibly Mrs. Graham — 

Roger. If you have anything worth saying, speak, and 
don"t waste words. 

New. {cool but angry; turns to Roger). Your scheme 
was a bold one. young man, and perhaps you think that we are 
quits ; but you have no't yet been acquitted of the crime of 
forgery. I alone hold the key to that mystery {enter Bijah), 
and it will be well for you to listen to what I have to say. 
You accuse me as instigator of the crime of attempting the 
life of the colonel. Branded as a forger, who will take your 
word tor that ? 

Col. Newcomb, leave this house I 

Roc;er. Wait, colonel. Let me deal with him. What 
compromise do you wish to make ? 

New. Let all suspicion fall from me, and I will give you 
my word that your name shall be cleared. 

Roger. You would buy my silence, sir, as you thought 
you did that of your accomplice. You, deeply scarred as you 
are by depravity and guilt, dare to make me such an offer ? 
No; a thousand times, no. \ ou will meet your deserts. 
For myself, time will prove my innocence. 

Ne\v. Will it, indeed ? You overrate your ability. I hold 
you in my power. 

Bijah {comes forward). And I hold you in mine. 

Roger. Bijah ! 

New. Bright, the bank's private detective ! 

Bijah. Exactly so. Mr. Newcomb, I am afraid your nice 
little scheme will be "smashed to smithereens," for it's my 
turn to play my hand. You forget that, as private detective, 
it was my duty to shadow every ojie (New. starts), — even 
your Royal HiglTness ; and you can jest bet your life, I did 
my duty. 

Roger. What is it. ^ Have you any proofs ? 

Bijah. Proofs ? Yes ; that Roger Carruth is innocent 
of forgery, and that Mr. Randolph Newcomb has that honor. 

Roger. Newcomb ! 

New. Man, it is false. 

Bijah. Don't blacken your soul with another lie. {Holds 
7ip papers.) I hold the trump card. 



AFTER TAPS. 43 

{Enter Polly.) 

Polly. Two gentlemen are at the door. 

BijAH. Yes ; friends of Mr. Newcomb. Colonel, shall 
we not bid him good-evening ? 

Col. Newcomb, leave my house ; and may you never 
enter it again. 

liijAH. No fear of that. He has two accounts to setde. 
{]>\\L\Y. glares at BijAH ; boius to Ruth, and exit.) 

Roger {ho/ding out hand to Bijah). Bijah, how much 
I have to thank you for ! 

Col. Mr. Bright, you have done your work well. I have 
seen your bravery on the battlefield, your honor and loyalty 
here. Your country may well be proud of you. 

Bijah {salutes). Thank you, colonel.' If I could only 
hear Polly say that. 

Polly. Indeed I will, if you will give me the chance. 

Bijah. That's well said, Polly. {Piits arm about her.) 

We'll all be bright and gay 
When Polly names the day. 

{Both laugh and walk up stage to windoiu.) 

Ruth. Gordon, are you satisfied .'' 

Col. Roger, can you ever forgive me? 

Roger {taking his hand). With my whole heart, sir. 
We have much to be grateful for, that fate led me into 
Newcomb's way. But where is Dorothy 1 
(Dor. lajighs outside.) 

Ruth. Here she comes, laughing as usual. It she were 
wrecked in mid ocean, that silvery laugh of hers would wake 
echoes on the waves. 

{Enter Dor. and Potts ; Dor. does not see Roger, who 
stands in window^ 

Dor. {putting arms about Ruth, who is seated by table). 
Another ripple on the matrimonial sea. Somebody's engaged. 
Guess who it is. 

Ruth. Engaged.^ I give it up. 

Dor. Allow me to present Major Pinkerton Potts as the 
culprit, and his victim is {ticr/is aroimdj sees Roger, and 
rushes into his arms) — Roger ! {All laugh.) 

Roger. That is news to me, major. 

Potts. Back again, old' man. I am glad to see you. 
{Shakes hands with Roger.) 

Dor. Well, you needn't make fun of me. It's my dear- 
est friend Mollie. 



44 AFTER TAPS. 

Col. Major, I indeed congratulate you. 

Roger. Thought you would follow my example, eh, old 
man? 

Potts. Yes ; yours was such a lucky prize, thought I 
would try my hand. 

Ruth. Mollie is well worth winning, major. 

Potts. Thank you, Mrs. Graham. 

Roger. Dorothy, what is the best news you could wish 
for.^ 

Dor. Your name cleared, and all happy once more. 

Roger. Then it is yours. I am an accused man no 
longer. 

Dor. Honor bright ? How did you tind it out ? 

Roger. Through that good friend of ours, Bijah Bright. 

Dor. (goes to Bijah). Air. Bright, I come to thank you 
once more. Polly, you can trust this man. He has proved 
loyal every time. 

Polly. Thank you. Miss Dorothy. It's pleased I am to 
hear you say so. 

Bijah. She has promised to marry me, and we invite you 
to Oldtown for the wedding. 

Dor. I accept upon the spot. Be good to him, Polly; 
he deserves it. 

Bijah. That she will. I can trust her for that. 

{E)itcr Pete, c.) 

Pete. O Massa Colonel, such a time ; it's jest orful. 
Massa Newcomb he jests rants and tears like a house aiire. 
Down in de hall am two gennlemen a-talking to him right 
smart. Shall I ax 'em up .^ 

Col. No, Pete. They will settle it amongst themselves. 
Do you remember what I promised you .'' That when the 
war was over I would help you find your mammy. 

Pete. 'Deed, Massa Colonel, I 'members, but 'specs der 
ain't no great hurry for dat. Yer's been so good to me, an' 
de missis, too. I should jes lub to stay wid you. Please 
massa, don't send me away. (Pi:te wipes eyes on 
sleeve.^ 

Col. No ; no fear of that. As long as you are a good 
boy, you shall stay with me. I shall not forget what you 
did for me. 

Pete. Please, massa, 1 done de bes I kiTows. 

Col. We all know that, and when your mammy does find 
you, she will be proud of her boy. And now, Pete, for the 
sake of the good old times in camp, give us one of your 
songs. 



AFTER TAPS. 45 

(Pete brings banjaj takes stage, c, a7id sings sotnetliing 
pathetic.) 

Roger. Those songs brought the tears to our eyes when 
we thought of you all at home. 

Dor. But no more tears now. No more trouble : only 
sunshine. Just think of it, Roger. Pinky is to be married, 
you his best man, and I maid of honor. 

Roger. I like that. Why not reverse things ? 

Dor. Oh, no ; mv last chance for that dignity. Wouldn't 
miss it for worlds. Besides, I promised for us both ; didn't 
I, Pinky? 

Potts. Indeed you did. No backslidmg, old man. 

Roger. As this little maid has signed the compact, I will 
help her keep it. {Ar^n about Dor.) 

Ruth. Is your heart hghter, Gordon ? 

Col. Yes, 'Ruth ; and already the color is coming to your 
cheeks. That, with Roger's forgiveness, makes .me happy 
again. Ah ! we all have suffered much, and have gamed the 
happiness which I trust the future will bring. {Music.) 
Ruth, the household enemy is routed at last. There are 
brio-ht days before us, but ever and anon will cross our paths 
memories of these dark days : the treachery of a friend ; 
the bravery of our brother {takes Roger's hand), who could 
forget and forgive, and, at the risk of his own life, come to 
your husband's rescue " After Taps." {Tableau.) 

CURTAIN. 



ENTERTAINMENTS FOR GIRLS, 



The BlK oj D rills. 

PART I. 

A group of entertainments for stage or floor performance, by Mary B. 
HoRNE, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. 

Price, - - - 30 cents. 

CONTENTS. 

A NATIONAL FLAG DRILL (As presented by children in 
Belmont, Mass., at a Fair given by the Arachne, in December, 1888. 
Also as given by ten young ladies of the Unity Club, in Watertown, 
Mass., February 22, 1889.) 

THE SHEPHERD'S DRILL. 

THE TAMBOURINE DRILL (As given at a Rainbow Party 
by twelve little girls of the Third Congregational Society, Austin St., 
Cambridgeport, May 2, 1S89. 

THE MOTHER GOOSE QUADRILLE (As danced at the Bel- 
mont Town Hall, May 10, 1889.) 



The n HRQNOTHANATQLETRON: 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day 
Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of "^1 and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June 18, 18S7, and later at Ellsworth, Maine 
April 6th, 1888. 

Price, --35 cents. 

THE idea of this cleverly conceived but quaintly named piece may be 
briefly described as follows : The "Genius of the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury," although congratulating herself upon the achievements of the age, 
still longs for some means of recalling to earth the prominent characters 
of the past. Her wish is granted by the "Inventress" who produces 
the "marvelous machine," the " Chronothanatoletron " (or Time and 
Death Annihilator), by means of which any woman of any epoch can be 
brought at once into the presence of the "operator." 



Out of his Sphere. 

A Comedy in Three Acts by the Author of the Pop- 
ular Military Drama 

"FORCED TO THE WAR." 

Price, 15 cents. 

Five male, three female characters. Scenery, two simple interiors. The 
leading character is an old farmer, whose wish for the comforts of 
city life and the luxuries of wealth is answered in an unexpected 
and embarrassing manner. The piece abounds in rustic humor, the 
contrast between the sim|jlc old countryman and his city surround- 
ings being ludicrously emphasized. All the characters are good and 
the piece easy to jjroduce. 

SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. Kitchen in Jedediali's house. A stormy night. Family jar. Jede- 
diali's return. A n^uch ainised man. "Hain't I been wrecked with floods, au' 
blizzards, an' hurricanes, an' every other calamity un ler tlie sun?" Dissatisfied 
with his spliere in life. "I want ter be rich, that's wliat I want, an' with 
nuthin' ter du but jesi sit around an' take life easy." Mr. .Markham seeks shel- 
ter from the storm. Jedediali, relates his troubles, after which he retires. 
Scheme between Mrs. Blood and Mr. Markham to cure Jedediah from grumbling. 
The Dutchman let into the secret. " You vhas der doctor, und I vhas der gen- 
eral superintendent. Pizness is pizness." Jetlediah placed under the influence 
of auiEstlietics and taken to the mausiou of Mr. Markham. 

Act II. Room in ]Markham's mansion. Jedediah awakes from his stupor. 
A bewildered man. " What — on — airth — Wliy ! where am I, anyhoAV ! " Fe- 
male servants not wanted, Believes himself to be dreaming and endeavors to 
awake. "I've hern tell if you could shout, or thrash yourself about, it would 
wake you from the toughest nightmare on record. So here goes." Interview 
between Jedediah and John. " Wise man holds tongue. Old proverb. Better 
follow it." Fun by tlie bushel. More and more bewildered. Mrs. Blood as Mrs. 
Southernwood. An explanation Avanted. "For Heaven's sake tell me where 1 am 
an' Avhat's the matter." Old home the best. Asleep or crazy — which? " Oh, 
Lord, I'm in a lunatic asylum, an' these servants are my keepers." Jedediah 
retires. Once more returned to his old home. 

Act III. Same as Act I. Conundrums. " Why do some ladies who do np 
their hair imitate a rooster?" Tlie Dutchman's conundrum. " Vy does der 
hen move his head back und forth vhen she vhalks?" Something about base- 
ball. Jedediah awakes. " I've had a dream." So have Thomas and the Dutcli- 
man. Jedediah's story. A permanent cure. "No matter under what circum / 
stances I am placed , or how poor my condition may be, I will never again And; 
fault with my sphere in life." 



THE BAT AND THE BALL. 

A Farce in one Act. 

Price -_---_- 15 cents. 

Four male, three female characters. Scenery, costumes and properties 
simple. Time in playing about 40 minutes. Showijig the difficul- 
ties that may arise from the practice of Amateur Photography. A 
roaring farce. 



In the Enemy'8 Gamp: 

OR, THE STOLEN DESPATCHES. 

A Drama in Three Acts, by 
S. J. BROWN. 

Price -15 cents. 

Eight male, two female characters. Good leading part, genteel 
villain, Irish and negro character. Time of playing about two hours. 
While not distinctively a war-play its incidents are concerned with im- 
aginary events of the Rebellion, and it is not unsuited to the needs of 
Grand Army Post-s. Scenery, simple interiors and landscape drops, 
very easy camp scene. 

SYNOPSIS. 

ACT I. Capt. Oliphant's home in the North. An unfinished honey- 
moon. The call of duty. A wife's anguish. "My hand girt on 
the sword that will be raised against my father! " The rebel spy. 
The Stolen Despatches. "He is Madge's father! Rather 
a thousand times my own disgrace, than be his executioner." The 
penalty of silence. Disgraced. 

ACT II. Scene I. Irish and negro. Colored dentistry. Scene II. 
The prison. A little story over a bottle of wine. " I understand. 
Good bye, old friend, and may Heaven bless you." The Escape. 
A shot in the dark. "Now, my lady Madge, by fair or foul means 
you must be mine." Scene III. Dead to the world. A wife's 
devotion. " I must bear it all for Malcolm's sake." A warning. 
"There is peril everywhere for friends of rebels." A false knave. 
"To remain is certain death! " To the Rescue. 

ACT III. Scene I. The camp. " If I could only hear from Madge !" 
The flower girl. The price of a passport. " I pay it, but to only 
one." Husband and wife. " What is this woman to you ? " A 
conundrum whose answer is death. " For the love of Heaven, get 
me the pass ! " The Deserter. Scene II. The villain's suit 
renewed. " Why not ; your husband no longer lives." The lie in 
his teeth. Misunderstood. "Can you not trust your wife .'' " Re- 
captured. Scene III. Sentenced to Death. " You will 
sometime ''now that Malcolm Oliphant died for another's crime — 
true to the Linion — true to the last." A Reprieve. The spy's 
death. " We have plotted together and die together." Reunited. 

Walter H. Baker & Co., 23 Winter St., BostoD. 



A NEW IRISH Dl 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

nm 

018 597 313 P I 

8HMR0GK # KU^h; 

A Romantic Story of Irish Life during the Rebellion 
of '98, in four acts. 

By JOHN FITZGERALD MURPHY. 

Seven male and three female characters. Costumes and scenery not diffi- 
cult. Every part a good one. A sure hit. Printed as played under 
the author's personal direction, at the Dudley St. Opera House, 
Boston, St. John's Hall, Boston, and the Newport Opera House. 

Act. I. Scene, Squire Fitzgerald's Home, in Wicklow. Rose's story of Desmond's 
arrival. Shaun Gary hears a bit of valuable news. Barney O' Brady meets an unexpected 
visitor and shows him the door. Ileen and Barney. The Fugitive. The arrival of the 
soldiers. Capt. Beck quarrels with the Squire, The defence. The murder. The Arrest. 

Act. H. Scene I: A Landscape. Carv and the Captain plot the abduction of Rose* 
Douglass' dilemma 'twixt love and duty. .S"cv«<? // ; The Prison. Barney's cell. Hot Irish 
in a stone jug. A friend in need. The red coat. .SV^«^ ///: Rose receives a false message. 
Scetie IV : Desmond's cell. The Death Warrant. Celt and Saxon. Barney a guard. 
The death knell. The Escape. 

Act III. Scene I : O' Byrnes' Wood. The purty girl milking her cow. Rarney pro- 
poses to Tleen. Desmond hears bad news. Barney, in the guise of a soldier, gets important 
information from Cary. Scene II : Exterior of Beck's Castle bv moonlight. Rose a Cap- 
tive. Barney brings good news. The proposal and refusal. The ass kicks. The false 
captive. The Rescue. 

Act IV. Scene: Corrigmor at Sunrise. Shaun Cary a captive. The arrival of Nano 
and Ileen. Tracked by Beck. Nano keeps Beck at Bay. The duel. Cary's shot. Beck*s 
death. The " Shamrock and Rose.'* 



Price 



B5 cents. 



Incidental to this piece occur the following }iew songs by Messrs. R. 
W. Lanigan and Leo. A. Munier, entitled 

SHAMROCK AND ROSE. MY IRISH QUEEN. 

MA BOUCHALEEN BAWN. 

The three published together at 60 cents ; obtainable only of the publishers. 



For other novelties see the preceding page. 

Walter H. Baker & Co., 23 Winter St., Boston. 

8. J. PARKHILL & CO., PRINTERS, 222 FRANKLIN ST., BOSTON. 



